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CQE5[RIGHT DEiK)SIIi 



— and — 

MYTHS FROM OVID 
(Second Series) 



' By 
J. Brookes More 




Thrash-Lick Publishing Co. 

Fort Smith, Arkansas 

1916 



4 



Copyright, 1916 

By 
J. Brookes More 



All rights reserved 






OCT -6 (916 



;i.A438756 



— To- 
My Sister 
Alice M. More 



CONTENTS 



(^vmt War, laUahs 





Page 


Sweet Maggie McGee - - - 


3 


Jacques Mallaise 


21 


A Dream in The Trenches 


31 


A Fish for the Kaiser - - - - 


37 


John Brown, African, 




of The Foreign Legion 


45 


Edith Cavell and Maggie McGee - 


53 


The Glory of Phelim O'Toole 


- 61 


Entrenched On The Aisne 


71 


Hans Winkelmann - - - - 


- 75 


A Belgian Hero . - - - 


79 


The First Balkan War - - - - 


87 



SONNETS ON THE WAR 

I. If Far In Heaven . - - - 89 

II. When Caesar Slaughtered Millions - 90 

III. Elijah Gazing with Prophetic Eye - - 91 

IV. Harsh Blow the Cold Winds - - 92 



MYTHOLOGY FROM OVID 

Page 
Perseus and Medusa - - - - 93 

Andromeda - - - - - - - -95 

The Sea-Monster ------- 97 

Sea Weeds Changed to Coral - - - - - 99 

Perseus at The Wedding Feast - - - - - 101 

The Death of Medusa .-.-.. 102 

Medusa Changed by Minerva - - - - - 104 

The Treachery of Phineus - - : - - lOS 

The Battle for Andromeda 
at the Wedding Feast - - - - - 108 

The Warriors Turned to Stone ----- 120 

Phineus Pleads for Life - ... - 123 

The Transformation of Phineus - - - - - 124 

Pentheus and Bacchus - - - - 127 

Tiresius Prophecies - - -- - -127 

Bacchus Appears - - - - - - 128 

The Wrath of Pentheus 129 

The Story of Acoetes 132 

Bacchus Appears to the Sailors - - - - - 135 

The Mutiny of Acoetes' Crew - - - - 136 

Bacchus Mocks the Mariners - - - - - 137 

The Treachery of the Mariners - - - - - 138 

Bacchus Shows His Power - - - - - 139 

The Mariners Transformed to Dolphins - - - 140 

The Death of Pentheus - - - - - 143 

Pyramus and Thisbe . - - - 145 

The Four Ages and Jupiter - - - 155 

The Golden Age - - 155 

The SUver Age - - - - - - 157 

The Age of Bronze - - - - - -158 

The Iron Age ------- 158 

The Giants and Jupiter . - - - 160 
Lycaon and Jupiter - _ - - 161 

The Milky Way - - - . . - - 161 

The Counsel of the Gods - - - - 162 

Jupiter Describes Lycaon's Wickedness - - - 165 

Lycaon Transformed to a Wolf - - . - 166 



Page 



Deucalion and the Deluge * - - 169 

The Southwind 171 

Neptune Commands the Waters - - - - 172 

The Deluge 173 

Parnassus Remains Above the Water - - - 1 74 

Jupiter Abates the Deluge - - - - - 175 

Triton Commands the Waters - - - - 176 

Deucalion's Complaint __-._. 177 
They Consult the Oracle of Themis - - - - 178 

New Race of Man from Stones _ _ . _ igO 

Python and Apollo 183 

Re-cieation of Animals and Monsters - . - 183 

Apollo Slays Python - - - - - - 185 

Origin of Pythian Games - - - - - 185 

Calisto and Jupiter 188 

Jupiter Disguised as Diana - - - - - 189 

Diana Discovers Calisto - - - - - - 191 

Juno Enraged Against Calisto - - . - - 193 

Calisto Transformed to a Bear ----- 193 

Areas Attacks His Mother Calisto - - ' - - 195 

Calisto and Areas Transformed to Constellations - - 196 

Juno's Jealousy - - - - - - ■ - 197 

Coronis and Phoebus 199 

story of the Raven - - - - - - 199 

Story of the Crow - - - - - - - 199 

The Crow Talks About Aglauros - - - - 201 

Minerva's Owl .--.... 202 

The Daughter of Coronaeus ----- 202 

The Crow (Daughter of Coronaeus) 

The Chosen Bird of Minerva ----- 203 

The Raven Talks to Phoebus about Coronis - - 205 

Tlie Death of Coronis - - - - - - 206 

Remorse of Phoebus ------ 206 

Burial Rites of Coronis - 207 

The Raven Changed from White to Black - - - 208 

Ocyroe and Aesculapius - - - - 209 

Ocyroe Prophecies - - - - - - 210 

Ocyroe Transformed to a Mare - - - - -211 

Phoebus Apollo as a Shepherd - - - - 213' 

Battus and Mercury 215 

Mercury Trans^'orms Battus to a stone - - - 217 



Several of the poems In this book are based on 
current events. — 

For literary reasons I chose to make Phelim 
O'Toole, an Irish soldier, and his sweetheart, Maggie 
McGee, the principal characters. It would not be 
reasonable to have Irish characters talk favorably of 
their enemies, but personally, I am sincerely neutral. 

One of the sonnets in this collection was formerly 
published in "Gods and Heroes," and is repeated here 
to complete the series of four War Sonnets. 

As my recent effort in Mythology has caused some 
discussion, I think it not amiss to state, that those 
of my Mythological works which are based on Ovid, 
including those in this volume, follow his narrative 
closely, but my purpose has been to present them to 
the English speaking world as a poet, not a translator. 
Those who are curious to read his exact words, can do 
so in one of several literal prose translations of his 
works, or may consult the Latin text. 

The Battle at the Wedding Feast, found in the 
Myth of Perseus and Medusa, shows clearly that modern 
warfare is not more terrible than the butchery of 
ancient hand to hand conflict. 

J. B. M. 



u^^xt mtmn 



'Twas an elegant party he gave us, 
And all of the officers went; 

And I was that proud to be present 
For three of his daughters had sent 

A dignified note to me honor, 
Which happened to be an invite; 

"DearPhelim, 

Plaze come to our party 
At eight o'clock Saturday night; 

"And it will be 'officers strictly', 
Yourself we are waiting to see; 
Now don't dissappoint us, dear Phelim, 
Yours truly, 

The Sisters McGee." 



Great War Ballads 



You see, we were ordered to Europe, 
For Ostend, Dunkirk or Calais, 

And all must be ready by Sunday 
To sail from Killala Bay. 

And that was the reason a plenty 

For revels and parties galore; 
But the grandest of all, to my notion. 

Was this of "The One Day Before." 

An elegant party, a grand one, — 

The next day, "Away to the war." — 

Take a light to your pipe while I'm talking, 
I'll tell it ye, Mickey O'More.— 

Now Billy McGee had three daughters, 
As pretty as they could well be, 

Young ladies, Miss Bridget and Mary, 
And sweet little Maggie McGee. 



Sweet Maggie McGee 



I'd called on the girls pretty often, 
And loved by the light of the moon, 

To wander with Bridget or Mary, 
Whichever one wanted to spoon. 

Of course, that left out little Maggie, 
Because she was only sixteen; — 

A wild little trick, and a spitfire — 
Her ayqual ye never have seen. 

"Aw Phelim, ye're after forgetting 
The girl that I told ye about" — 

"Tut, Mickey your tongue interrupts me- 
You grunt like a pig in his snout." 

The first one I met at the party 

Was Bridget, and looking that swate, 

My head was bamboozled entirely, 
Sure was I, that girl was my fate. 



Great War Ballads 



We had the first daiice, and together 

Were thinking how soon we must part; — 

I said to her, "Bridget, tomorrow 
I go, but[I lave you me heart." 

"Come out in the garden," she whispered, 
"Faith, how can we talk in this crowd. "- 

And there in the moonlight 'tv/as settled: 
I felt like a peacock, — that proud. 

So when we came back, there was Mary, 
And Bridget said, "Give her a dance;" 

And away we went whirling together, 
It seemed I was lost in a trance. 

"Ah Mary," I said, " 'Tis a strange world; 

I feel like it's slipping away; 
It leaves me behind while we're dancing. 

Tomorrow will be my last day." 



Sweet Maggie McGee 



"Come out in the garden," she whispered, 

**I feel I will have a big cry." 
And out there my head went that foolish, 

To hear the poor girl weep and sigh. 

**AhMary," says I, "You're heartbroken 

Because I am off to the war; 
But listen, me darlint, FlI tell you 

A thing I have thought of before: 

" 'Tis the praist that can help us, my Mary, 
Your husband I am, if you'll wait," — 

"Ah Phelim, " she sighed, "You'll forget me, 
The glory will make you so great." 

We argued that question ten minutes; 

She swore she would always be true; 
And when I went back to the dancing, 

Sure, I was engaged to her too. 



Great War Ballads 



The first one we met in the parlor 
Was sweet little Maggie McGee; 

Says Mary, "0 Phelim, there's Maggie, 
Go dance with her, just to plaze me." 

And soon we were dancing together — 
I thought we were floating in air, 

And I seemed in a dream for the perfume 
That lurked in her beautiful haii. 

Her eyes, looking up (just a little), 
I saw in their wonderful blue, 

A light I had dreamed of in women — 
Soft, innocent, perfect and true. 

And the music? ah yes, and the music! 

It breathed of a lover's soft pain; 
And the sorrow that wafted around us 

Was turning to pleasure again. 



Sweet Maggie McGee 



And there went the languishing beauties 

In circles around and around ; 
And all of it mingled together, 

Light, beauty, sweet perfume and sound, 

I whispered, "Ah what is it? Dearie, 

It is not the earth we are on; 
And are you that sweet little Maggie, — 

Or the wraith of her— after she's gone?" 

She ansv^ered me not, but her fond eyes. 
Suffused with a liquid of pearl; 

And all the wide world slipped away then, 
Save only that one darling girl. 

My brain was on fire, I was dizzy, 
I was sick with excess of delight; . 

Ah, what if that girl should forget me 
The moment I slipped from her sight? 



Great War Ballads 



I whispered, **My dear, I can't stand it; 

Come out in the garden with me; 
I never can rest till I've told you 

What ails me, sweet Maggie McGee." 

She looked up with something of wonder, 
And something of knowledge I thought; 

A man is so stupid and clumsy; 
A girl by her nature is taught. 

A girl at sixteen may be artless. 
But that is not always the case; — 

Sweet Maggie demurely went with me. 
But a dimple played rogue in her face.— 

"Aw Phelim O'Toole, what's a Mormon 
Compared wit' the likes of your heart? 

The divil is anxious to burn ye — 

I'm waiting to witness your start." — 



10 



Sweet Maggie McGee 



/ 



**What Mickey O'More, has occasioned 
The nonsense and vapor ye give? 
ust wait for the end o' me story; 
You're jealous as sure as I live." 

Ah Maggie," said I, " 'Tis a wonder, 

To see you so quiet and shy; 
And me that's on fire like a furnace 

For love of you standing near by. 

'And the cause of it? Sure there's a reason, 
And who but your sweet self, my dear? 
The good Lord was mad wit' us poor men ■ 
That moment he put you down here. 

"I'm off of me feet, I am foolish; 

The divil knows what I will say; 
But the angel that's in you must hear it 

Before I can go on me way. 



11 



Great War Ballads 



"Now Bridget is ill for a brother, 

And Mary feels awfully too, 
But before they can get such a present 

They'll first have to give away — you. 

"Ah, Maggie, my colleen, forgive me, — 
A wild man, clane out of his mind, — 

So proud was I, now I'm that humble 
Compared with you — gold, and refined. 

"But when I am off to that great war. 

Where death works a strange Golden Rule, 

And you hear of that terrible carnage, 
Will you forget Phelim O'Toole? 

" 'Tis a strange thing but true, I assure you 
Great courage and real love are friends; 

And I feel, if the good Lord will spare me, 
That I may (before the war ends) 



12 



Siveet Maggie McGee 



"Do something that you can be proud of; 

I mean, if you care about me, 
For now I am through with my boyhood 

For the love of sweet Maggie McGee. 

"And Maggie, see, here is a plain ring. 
The one that my mother once wore, 

And I ask you to keep it because, dear. 
No other girl never before 

"Have I had a thought to part with it. 
And sure by that sign you will know 

There is one girl for me, and one only, 
Acushla, wherever I go." 

And my arm had ( by accident may be ) 

Slipped 'round her, — ah sure it was chance; 

But it gave me another sensation 

Than the same in the whirl of the dance, 



13 



Great War Ballads 



And while 1 was talking her eyes shone 
Like stars on the waves of the Moy — 

And as I leaned over I whispered, 
"My dearest, my darling-, my joy." 

And our lips met ( by accident may be ) 
But the moment the kissing v/as done. 

Up Maggie flashed furious and slapped me, 
And fled from me like a wild fawn. 

At first I was rather astonished, 

And angry — it made my cheek sting — 

But when I reflected I noticed 

She had not returned me that ring. 

So, musing, I turned from the garden 
And entered the ball room once more; 

'Twas late and the guests had departed. 
But Bridget stood by the front door. 



14 



Sweet Maggie McGee 



We walked about ten feet together, 
And there stood Miss Mary near by, 

And always, her heart was that tender, 
I thought she was ready to cry. 

Then the three of us ambled to father, 
With arms locked around them I v/int; 

And the moment he saw that performance 
His eyes took a mischievous glint. 

"Dear father," I said, "Pretty Bridget 

Has told me a sister I need, 
And Mary assures me the same thing, 

*Tis I am the brother indeed." 

Then both of the girls began laughing. 
Each thought I had said the right thing; 

And I was quite sure of that notion. 
By right of one girl and the ring. 



15 



Great War Ballads 



Then Daddy McGee said, "You rascal, , 
To which of the girls have you lied.'* 

And I answered, **Belave me the best one.' 
They laughed at that quite satisfied. 

"So that was the end of your party;" 
Chimed in little Mickey O'More. — 

Be aisey Mike, I never told you 
That I had gone out be the door. 

Well — annyway — Mickey you guessed it; 

I rambled away to the gate; 
For sure I suspicioned that some one 

Would hang around there, — on the wait. 

But that little trick of wild nature 

Would never do what you might think; 

The rest of the night, having missed her,^ 
My wearied eyes slept not a wink. 



16 



Sweet Maggie McGee 



The morning came up; bright and early, 
The drum and fife stirred the crisp air; 

And after we ate a good breakfast, 
We packed up and started from there. 

We marched down the main street in glory, 
For all the town waved a farewell; 

And here and there Johnny or Tommy 
Broke ranks to kiss Kitty or Nell. 

And what would you think of Miss Bridget, 
So kind at the party last night! 

She passed that same Phelim O'Toole, sir, 
And hugged the lad just at his right. 

"Ah Jimmy Malone, you rap-scallion. 

Whoever would think ye so sly? 
I thought your Miss Bridget was my girl, 

I see it was all in me eye." 



17 



Great War Ballads 



And Vv^hat would you think of Miss Mary, 
So ready and soft with her weep! 

Ah Mickey, don't fail to raymimber 
Thim kind of girls always is deep. 

She passed me the same as Miss Bridget, 
And held a big weep in her eyes. 

But a lad on me left. Bill O'Brien, 
Rewarded her sorrowful cries. 

I looked on me right, there was Bridget 

A-kissing of Jimmy Malone; 
I looked on me left, and O'Brien, 

With Mary was wailing o'chone! 

'Twas sad for me, I that neglected, 
Forgot by the pretty McGees! 

And where was a female for Phelim 
To weep with, or kiss if you please? 



18 



Sweet Maggie McGee 



Well, after the women had plenty 
Of doings, that kind of a way, 

With a cheer for the girls and a flourish 
We marched out of old Ballina. 

But sarrah the cheer would I join in, — 
And all the boys laughed at me so, 

I gnawed on me nails, and I growled out, 
"The divil knows where you will go." 

Away we had marched then, a half mile, 
While I was that cross as, — oh well! 

When out from the midst of a thicket 
We heard the most terrible yell. 

A screech and a yell, and betwixt them 
I heard my name, "Phelim O'Toole!" 

A screech then, **0 Phelim!" a yell then, 
I felt like a blithering fool. 



19 



Great War Ballade 



So dazed like I was, till my fool head 
Remembered the tone of that voice; 

And the sight of the way I went on then 
Would make a blind monkey rejoice. 

I threw down my gun on the soft peet, 
I ran to the voice that called me; 

And there in a clump of sweet lilacs 
My darling, sweet Maggie McGee. 

"Bad cess to you, Mickey O'More, let 
That tongue of yours wag in your head; 

No question of yours can get from me 
A word of what Sweet Maggie said." 



20 



Slarnupa iHallatae 



"Hurrah for it boys! here is Phelim — 
That divil from Ireland can't die — 

An ye gather around him to listen, 
He'll tell ye the dooce of a lie." 

"Ye Scawlthon! — ye shrimplet of Erin! — 
And how are ye come to this war? 

Make use of your tongue and they'll kape you 
For Parliament, Mickey 0' More." — 

"Come over here boys! be that token, 

A tale is in Phelim O'Toole; 
'Tis the trick of him, since we were wee lads 

In mischief together at school." 



21 



Great War Ballade 



"Well, Mickey O'More, for that reason, 
ril tell them what happened for fear 

If you are not stopped of your jabbers 
You'll shame all the Irish that's here." 

You know I was called by the general 

To get him a special report, 
And now there's no cause to be secret 

I'll blab it to kape up your sport. 

Says he to me, "Phelim, the Proossians 
Most surely are tapping the wire; 

I know it because our maneuvers 
Are always delayed by their fire. 

"And now there's an urgent occasion 
For us to get word to the French, 

Of doings by far too important 

To chance the tapped wires from the 
trench. 



22 



Jacques Mdllaise 



"Take this to them over at Dixmude, 
And while ye run over the way, 

Examine the wire through the forest; 
And travel be light of the day." 

At once I set off on my gray horse, 
That message hid under his tail, 

Besides a false note in my pocket, 
To fool them in case I should fail. 

Well, while I was riding I felt sure 
I saw through the leaves of a tree, 

The glint of a rifle that hinted 
A Proossian was looking at me. 

Good angels take care of the Irish! 

I dropped the false note on the ground; 
And the yokel hid up in those branches, 

Bamboozled, made never a sound. 



23 



Great War Ballads 



No doubt he made sure 'twas important, 

So divil the trigger he pulled; 
While Phelim rode forward, rejoicing. 

In love wit' the Proossian he fooled. 

I well knew the wires had been tapped there, 

Yet innocent-like I rode by; 
And so, (be the trick of it) lately 

That German was shot for a spy. 

In due time, I got to the French camp, 
And gave the right note to the general ; 

That tickled he was, when he read it, 

He chuckled, "We'll lick 'em my men or I'll 

"Eat anny old mud in the trenches: — 
Tomorrow, boys, three in the morning. 

Be ready to charge wit' the bay' net, — 
Be careful, don't give 'em a warning." 



24 



Jacques Mallaise 




That word went the rounds, and our French- 
men 

Were merry as truants from school — 
They made up a song with a chorus 

That ended with Phelim O'Toole! 

At three in the morning, away then, 
They rushed up the hill for the Dutch — 

God give me the French or the Irish! — 
Hurrah! and a charge! hurrah! — Such 

Was the craze and the fury, — they kept on, 
Although they were caught in a hell 

Where cannons were belching out murther 
With solid ball, shrapnel and shell. 

A thousand, at least, were destroyed there. 
Not far from the enemy's trench. 

And the Bosches, blood-lusting for slaughter, 
Were shouting, "God punish the French!" 



25 



Great War Ballads 



But while they were yelling their lungs out, 
A wounded man, Jacques Mallaise, 

From the midst of the dead and the dying 
Sang bravely the French Marseillaise! 

Imagine! betwixt the two armies, 

Where mangled men covered the ground. 

One living and singing defiance, 

While bullets were whistling around. 

His voice, a rich baritone, grandly 
SweMed over the discord of hate; — 

The soldiers stopped fighting and listened, 
Amazed as he mocked at his fate. 

But when he had silenced that clamor. 
He stopped in the midst of his song, 

And called to the French, who were held back 
And wild to retrieve their wrong; 



26 



Jacques Mallaise 



"Ho, comrades, my ankle is fractured, 

But never you dream about me; 
Shoot comrades! shoot low at the Bosches, 
Have at them, — for victory!" 

Good God! as they looked through the gray 
dav/n, 

And saw that the torn bodies moved. 
No Frenchman could shoot at the Germans 

Across the brave comrade he loved. 

Not so with the long line of Proossians, 
Their cruel guns rattled, spit, spats; 

Swept over the field where the wounded 
Were writhing like tortured rats. 

And again from the din of the battle 
Rang out the deep voiced Mallaise; 

But instead of the song he was cursing. 
In various and horrible ways. 



27 



Great War Ballads 



"Shoot comrades! shoot low at the Bosches! 

Forget me, consider me slain; 
For what in the hell does it matter ; 

Remember the sack of Louvain!'' 

Oh, then it is something most awful ; 

The tears spurting forth from their eyes, 
Ten thousand brave soldiers are sobbing, — 

He, cursing, his own death defies! — 

Ten thousand ! a host out of bedlam. 
They shoot with a frenzy to kill — 

With never a word from a captain 
They rush up the death-strewn hill. 

And I am as crazy as they are — 

We charge with a reckless wild yell; 

And where a man falls there are ten more 
To jump for the spot where he fell. 



28 



Jacques Mallaise 




No son of a woman can stand up 
Against that wild shock undismayed; 

Like rabbits they run from their trenches, 
Demoralized, whipped ancT afraid. 

Red Slaughter runs mad in the gray dawn, 
The Frenchmen are shouting ''Louvain!'* 

And often the word, "Lusitania!" 
Is echoing over the plain. — 

Holy Virgin! I'm back wut the Irish, 
They fight for the Glory of God! 

But the Proossians and French in a mix-up, 
Are savage for lust of hot blood. 



29 



A SIrram in 0I1|f ©rpiirijra 



Now this is me tale; — aw now Mickey forget it, 

Ye tyke! not the least tail o' me; 
But the tale I'm a telling. — The weather was awful, 

That nasty you never did see. 

The Huns had been shelling us (snug in our trenches) 

Their mortyars kept booming a wake; 
And what wit' the charges and sniping around us, 

No slape and no rest could I take. 

Saint Pathrick (or something) took care of the Irish, 
The Proossians were caught at their tricks; 

They crept, in the midnight, to ketch us a-slapeing, 
And gotta good fill of the Micks. 



31 



Great War Ballads 



We caught them betwixt and betchune the two ditches, 

And gave them a dose of cold steel ; 
'Twas like a pig-sticking, me arms got that weary, 

For numbness I hardly could feel. 

Well, when it was over, the dead men were lively 

Compared with the likes of meself ; — 
Begobs we were safe, till the dawn o' the morning, — 

I took a big snore on me shelf. 

Holy Moses! the night-mares that galloped around me! 

Till dawn of the morning was gray, 
I thought I was walking through miles of deep 
trenches 

That twisted like snakes the wrong way. 

And then I was lost in the thick of a forest. 

And shells were the fruit of the trees; 
They busted and killed such a plenty of Bosches 

I waded in blood to my knees. 



32 



A Dream in the Trenches 



I stood on an old stump, surrounded by soldiers; 

They grew from the trees and the stones; 
I handed the biggest a jab of my bay 'net, 

I felt it go grit in his bones. 

The bay 'net stuck in him; I tried to unloose it, 

To get at the rest of my foes; 
It would not come out, and I could not unhand it, 

Be dad! to the gun I was froze. — 

Now Mickey quit winkin' and japein* that foolish, 

Suppose ye were in such a fix; 
Ye'd call it great sport, and the Proossigns around ye? 

I say, like the Dutch, "aber nix." 

*' 'Tis the divil's own tale ye are after the telling, 

Remember this, Phelim O'Toole, 
Ye said ye were froze to the holt of your musket, 

Explain, if ye*re not a big fool." 



33 



Great War Ballads 



**Aw Mickey! I saw in the light of me drameing, 

And all was too dark for to see; 
But nov;, an ye listen, I'll tell ye what happened 

When sunlight was shining on me. 

"Of course, what I'm after the telling was nightmares 

But now I'm awake in me tale, 
And when I'm awake I'm that wonderful truthful, — 

A lie! whist, to tell it I'd fail."— 

Now when I awoke, in the midst of me right mind, 

On me left I v/as lying stretched out; 
And the Huns be the hundred were scatthered around 
me; 

Stark dead they were litthered about. 

And their blood! 'twas a lake of it, frozen and brittle, 

And there I was held in that ice; 
And the musket that filled Mickey's head with a 
wonder. 

Was held in me grip like a vice. 



34 



A Dream in the Trenches 



And from it red icicles shone in the sunlight, 

Belave it or not, I don't care; 
But the worst of it was, I was held like a prisoner, 

And no one could pull me from there. 

'Twas a sight for the Irish! alive as the divil. 
And held by a Proossian that's dead! — 

** Whist! Phelim O'Toole, 'tis a taffy you give us, 
There's nothing but lies in your head." — 

"Now, Mickey what for do ye so interrupt me. 

In coorse I got out of me fix; 
Just wait a bit, faith, and ye'll have to belave me, 

Both you and the rest of the Micks." — 

A Parlevoo came to the rescue of Erin — 
He grabbed up some fresh dinnymite, — 

He placed it, and parlevooed, begged of me pardon,- 
And touched it off, biff! — out of sight 



35 



Great War Ballads 



Sails I in the air like a scout on an airship! — 
Comes I to me camp, to me friends! — 

Faith, Mickey O'More, be the saints, I have proved it; 
The tail of me narrative ends. 



36 



A S^tsh for t\}t Kmsn 



And have ye not heard of how Phelim 
Went fishing for love of the Kaiser? — 

ril tell it then, faith! a fish-story, — 
But divil a bit of a lie, sir. 

Our trench was that close to the Bosches, 
We sickened of boozy beer-brogue, 

A pretzel! a schnitzel! a smeerkase! 

Krout, wiener!— Dutch- dainties in vogue. 

'Twas midnight, a big shell cavorted, 
And struck be the dark of the moon — 

It fell from the sky like a banshee, — 
A-whining a devilish tune. 

37 



Great War Ballade 



It dug up a crater ten-foot deep, 

And twenty foot wide, be the guess; — 

If any such lights on me noddle 
I doubt of a chance to confess. 

When morning awoke me 'twas raining — 

The water poured into that hole 
And made a delicious mud puddle — 

The drain of a near by knoll. 

And when the clouds tired of that juice-work, 
A puddle was there; and the b'yes 

Nicknamed it the Lake of Ki Harney— 

Ould Ireland dropped down from the skies. 

That very night Phelim got restless. 
He dreamed he was fishing at home; 

And when he awoke in the morning, 
He called to me, **Mick O'More! come! 



38 



A Fish for the Kaiser 



**Ye want to go fishing?— get ready! 

I'm off to the Lake of Killarney!" — 
I gave him the laugh, but he flared up, 

"Go fish in it, divil a blarney!" 

That Irishman rummaged around, till 

He rigged up a rod and a hook; 
And hid in his breast a dried herring. 

He managed to beg from the cook. 

* 'Whist, Mickey O'More!" the boys shouted, 
"A pretty pet hid in his breast; 

The feel of it! faix, and the bouquet! 
A herring, imagine the rest/' 

Of course, 'twas a warm day and Phelim, 

It may be, was sweating a bit; 
But that is no cause for excitement— 

You're dreaming he tasted of it. 



39 



Great War Ballads 



So, Phelim got hold of a white rag, 

And stuck it on top of his hat; 
And out of the trench he went, careless, 
His rod in his fist, and all that. 

The Bosches looked on, kind a curious — 
He walked to the edge of the pool ; 

And while he was fishing they sang out, 
"0 Phelim, Phelim, O'Toole." 

They knew him that well; but he kept on 
Pretending to fish with a bait; 

"Kape quiet!'' he cautioned, "kape quiet! 
Ye Germany boobies, and wait, — 

''Help, help! it's a rale old ten pounder! 

Kape quiet, I'll land him, avic! — 
The Kaiser will lose a good breakfast — 

Come help me to catch the old Nick." 



40 



A Fish for the Kaiser 



That roused up a malt-fed, fat Teuton, 

Round, jolly and puffy and short. — 

He waddled up, made a great flourish 
Of joining the Irishman's sport. 

**Vee gates it? Mine Herr, yet, goot morgen. 
My nahmen, mine Herr, ist Von Dool/'— ^ 

**The top o' the morning, mine Herring, 
My name, sir, is Phelim O'Toole." 

He kept up a gabble, Teutonic, 

And Phelim good Dublin was spakeing — 

I never could tell how it happened. 
But, while they were deep in that faking, 

O'Toole got a holt of Von Dool's line, 

By shouting, "They're coming, look, look!" — 

And, while he was dazed, took the herring 
And stuck it, all right, on the hook. 



41 



Great War Ballads 



Then, slick as a weasel, he flipped it. 
With never a sound, in the pool. 

And shouted, "Ho, Germany, watch out, 
A fish for the Kaiser, — Von Dool." 

The German cried, somewhat beflustered, 
"A fish for the Kaiser, mein Gott!" 

And, while he was yelling, his left !eg, 
In a marvelous manner was caught 

On Phelim's athletic right foot, sir, 
And with a jew-jitty-soo twister 

Von Dool was tripped into the puddle, 

A-shouting, "Der Kaiser! — vot ist hier!'' 

And while the brave Teuton was bathing, 
The Irishman fiourished that fish pole, — 

The herring a-dangle, — and bawled out, 
**A fish for the Kaiser on this pole!" 



42 



A Fish for the Kaiser 



Up, out of the trenches, the Bosches, 
A dozen, a hundred, pell mell, 

Rushed over to help the fat swimmer, 
Blub-blubbing in that mud well. 

And out of their wits at the quare turn. 
But sure of the fish he had caught. 

The bunch of 'em kept up a shouting, 
"A fish for the Kaiser, — mein Gott!" 



43 



It Irohm, Afrtf an, of 



Now whaffoh, Miss Maggie, you laffin, 
Kase why, of dat powaful chahm? 

A white-graveyard-rabbit's left hind foot 
Will suttenly keep you from hahm. 

Mah friend, Mistah Phelim, can prove it — 
Ah followed him straight up the hill — 

He saw how the shells couldn't hit me— 
Some magic! in such a big mill! 

**But John, you forget the 'Jack Johnson' * 
That wounded you there in the back; 

Perhaps there's a plenty of magic, 
A rabbit's left hind foot may lack." 

* The Soldiers call large shells "Jack Johnsons." 

45 



Great War Ballads 



V\^hy lawzey, Miss Maggie, me wounded? 

And me in mah bed, paralyzed! — 
Ah thought all mah troubles was ovah. 

And wobbled around and capsized. 

But only for this little hind foot — 
It saved me and Phelim O'Toole — 

That big shell had hustled our sliadows 
To sizzle where wintah's not cool. 

"I wish you would tell me about it;" 

Chimed in little Maggie McGee, 
"Strange is it a man of your color 

From Boston, and over the sea; 

"For why should you leave that great country, 
Where even the naygurs get rich, 

A picking gold off of the mountains, 
Or cotton and prayties and sich. 



46 



John Brotvriy African 



"For why did you come to this bad war, 
Where Kaisers are swimming in blood, 

And leave your great mansions of marble, 
To wallow in trenches of mud." 

Why lawzey, Miss Maggie, quoth John Brown, 
Ah guess Ah most always might have 

Qu-ossity mo' than right judgment; — 
It was not because Ah was brave, 

But some of mah friends had v/ar-fevah, 
And made up a "legion" to fight 

For France, and they needed a cook, so 
Ah joined them account of their plight. 

And so Ah have followed this ahmy. 
And fed them and fought for them too, 

And Ah w^ould be dead like the olhahs 
Except fo' mah little hoo-doo. 



47 



Great War Ballads 



'Twas Sattaday mawnin', we stahted 

To chahge like the Germans, — you know, 

Bunched up in a reg'lah formation — 
And that worried all of us — so, 

Ah said kind of loud, with intention 
The captain would heah what Ah said, 

**Why doan' that man tell us to spread out 
Befo' we gets laid out fo' dead?" 

He didnH pay no least attention — 
Whalfoh should he listen to me? — 

We went that-a-way till the captain 
Got ready a-plenty, says he, 

* 'Spread out and to kuvvah, heads down boys"- 

He had a good reason by that — 
Our heads a-most natchally sag down — 

Ah dodge like a rabbit or cat. 



48 



John Brown, African 



And a-shootin' away from the hill-top 
An ahsenal, robbed of its guns, 

Keeps pumpin' all kinds of fired bullets, 
Invented by bahberous Huns. 

We stops, and we rush, and again rush, 

We gets to the top of the hill; 
The Germans get skeered and bend backwahd; 

Ah 'spicion they sho' got their fill. 

But chasing them we got surrounded, 
Machine guns in front and around. 

And shells in the middle a-bustin' — 
Ah thought Ah was heavenly bound. 

They tole us to lay on our stummicks. 
To dodge their machinery pills; — 

You simply cain't duck them love-tokens, 
No mo' than your grocery bills. 



49 



Great IVar Ballads 



And while Ah was huggin' the ground close, 
Jack Johnson slid ovah mah back; 

'0 Lawdy,' Ah says to mahself, sir, 
*Ah'm smashed lak a railroad track. 

*Ah guess Ah'm a-earnin' mah wages. 

About a whole penny a day, 
But somehow the future lool;s gloomy 

And dahk if Ah keeps dis-a-way.' 

"How many days lasted that battle?" 
Astonished, said Maggie McGee; — 

"Why just a small po'tion of one day. 
And that was enough to hold me." 

"And who went with you besides Phelim?" 
Said Maggie, perhaps with some pride: 

He answered. "They kept me too busy. 
But Phelim was close at mah side." 



50 



John BroWn^ African 



While Maggie was dreaming of glory, 
Another nurse came with his food; 

"Oh lawzey, jes' whiff at the bacon, 
Ah tell you it sho'ly am good. 

"If Joffrey would listen to mah plan, 
This wah would not last half a day; 

Ah'd set out a million of rashahs, 
All crispy and hot dis-a-way; 

"And scattah them out on the trenches — 

As soon as the Huns got a smell 
They'd jump from their holes and surrendah- 
Too glad to escape from their — well, 

"That minds me again of mah good luck. 
Account of mah rabbit- foot chahm; 

Fo' why does Ah know it's the rabbit? — 
Why heah Ah is cuddled from hahm." 



51 



Great VVar Ballads 



"But where then is Phelim," said Maggie, 
"Ah, tell me for better or worse — 

'Tis me that came over from Ireland, 
In ease he might need for a nurse." 

"And do you know Phelim, Miss Maggie? 

They found him nigh dead on that hill, 
And toted him, captive to Belgium — 

Perhaps he is up there still." 

"My Phelim among those blood-robbers? 

Oh, tell me how may I go there! 
Thank God for this badge of the Red Cross, 

A passport that's good everywhere." 



52 



Bttli (Eafell 



"Come out with it, Mickey, and tell us 
What happened when Maggie McGee 

Donated her tongue to Von Bissing — 
Come Mickey, we're waiting on ye." 

And is it meself ye are teasing? 

Me, puffing a snipe and no light? — 
Me wind-pipe's that dry, — I'm a desert; 

I'll bark it, not spake, if I try it. — 

Well then — gloog-loog-loog! I feel better — 
And now, — poof, poof, poof — a grand stogie; 

So kind are ye, I will endayvor 

To show up Von Bissing. — That rogue! he 
53 



Great War Ballads 



Had already signed the death-warrant 

Of Edith Gavel 1, when a sly 
Ould fox of a German said, "Maggie 

For helping Miss Edith should die." 

And troth was it so? she had helped me. 
And others, to fade from their clutches; — 

No matter,— to murther a good nurse 
Is nobody's right but the Deutches. 

They slaughtered Miss Gavell that same night. 

Von Bissing the next morning gave 
To each of his henchmen a tin cross — 

A sooveneer, * 'fit for the brave. ' ' 

And while that ould mummy still felt good. 
He sent for sweet Maggie McGee, 

Determined to make her confess all, 
Before he would let her go free. 



54 



Edith Cave II and Maggie McGee 



**So Meggie," said he, *'Yust inform me 
How you und Miss Kevell us fool; 

A child you was, so I not hurt you — 
So young, yet, und yust out of school.** 

Then Maggie looked daggers and scorned him; 

"Is it me, ye would like to cajole? 
A serpent ye are, I advise you. 

Go wriggle away to your hole.'* 

A big-fisted soldier then caught her, 
And, shaking her, hissed in her ear, 

'*How dare you insult, yet, his highness? 
Good reason I gif you to fear.'* 

A classic performance that started: — 
As when the wild-cat, in attack, 

Encounters a wolf: — Her eyes blazing. 
She crouches— she arches her back — 



55 



Great War Ballads 



And, swift as a ball to the wicket, 

Leaps straight at the neck of her foe; — 

She yells, and she scratches and bites him, 
Escapes his great teeth, till a blow 

Of her claws rips a gash in his white throat ;- 
So, Maggie, her eyes in a blaze, 

Dug deep with the nails of her fingers 
Red lines on the German's face: 

She grabbed at his hair with her two hands, 
Jerked out a big hank by the roots; 

And biting and scratching and yelling, 
Kicked out with her French-heeled boots. 

Compared with that little she-tiger, 
That mountain of strength was no use; 

A map of ould Ireland his face was. 
When she had repaid his abuse. 



56 



Edith Cavell and Maggie McGee 



That over, she threw at ould Bissing 

A bottle or two of his beer; 
Books, papers and weights, swords, pistols, 

Just anything handy or near; 

Kicked over the chairs, broke a mirror, 
And screeching and yelling blue murther, 

Began to tear off a few garments — 
Old Bissing afraid of, — what further? 

Ran out of the room in a panic. 
And managed to call, in his fright. 

An army or so, **to the rescue," 
Who thinking a turrible fight, — 

Perhaps a surprise — came a running 
To rescue that cold-blooded Nero; 

By which, I'll record to the whole world. 
They certainly saved a great hero. 



57 



Great War Ballads 



By cannons, guns, sabres and brave deeds. 
They captured sweet Maggie McGee — 

Great glory they won — I have heard tell 
The mix-up was awful to see. 

A danger she was to their Impire, 
They had to confine her in jail; — 

The logical Baron Von Bissing 
Wrote William a luminous tale. — 

So back comes a note from Got-William 
Promoting that vigilant boss, 

And tons of ould junk in small pieces, 
Profaning the shape of the cross. 

Now, everything ready for Maggie, 
Ould Bissing made up a report 

To fool the dense world with a story, 
How Maggie was tried in fair court; 



58 



Edith Ca7Jell and Maggie McGee 



But while he was scheming that wild tale, 

The world gave a palpable hint 
About the sly murther of women 

By Kaisers conceited of flint. 

That hard was the hint it would break through 

The hide of a rhinoceros; 
Small doubt of it, since the Got-Kaiser, 

To prove that he loved the Red Cross, 

Gave orders to pardon all nurses. 

By which the blame went to Von Bissing, 

The glory, as always, to William 

Whom Satan not long will be missing. 

And just for that reason sweet Maggie 
Remained there, a Red Cross Nurse; 

And she it was saved our brave Phelim — • 
Thank Heaven! it might have been worse. 



59 



©I|0 (l^larg of fkilm (§'Eaah 



Dear Daddie, I take up my pencil 
To tell ye the news of the day— 

How I wish the sad war was all over. 
And me in Killala Bay! 

It is dreadful to be with these poor men, 
That once were so strong and so brave, 

Now mangled and torn;— it were better 
To put them at rest in the grave. 

O Father! how can I but tell it; 

Our Phelim O'Toole, — is not— dead — 
But wounded, he suffers that dreadful,— 

I write while I watch by his bed. 



61 



III 



Great War Ballads 



They brought him here, maimed and delirious, 

He doesn't know I am his nurse; 
And the doctor has said we will lose him, 

If ever his fever gets worse. 

Near dead am I watching the nights through. 

With never a minute of sleep; 
Small use have I now for these sad eyes, 

Excepting to watch and to weep. 

And Mickey O'More it was brought him, — 
Ye mind him, that small freckled lad? 

His blue eyes of laughter? God bless him! — 
He took on for Phelim so bad. 

He told me how Phelim got hurted, 

The glory he did in that war: 
ril tell it ye here on this paper. 

Be the language of Mickey O'More: — 



62 



'Ike Glory of Phctim O" Toole 



Says Mickey, "Ah Maggie, I seen him 

In the hot of it, time and again! 
ril never forget in that wild charge 

So grand was he, leading his men. — 

**You see, it was this way, the Bosches jjl 

Outnumbered us twenty to one. 
And now they had planned a great effort. 

To whip us and force us to run. 

* 'For one of them spied out our trouble, — 

What was it? Our powder was low! — 
A -cartridge! 'twas worth a goold guinea! — 

Our gun-fire was feeble and slow. 

**0f course, if we once got to running, 

They'd follow with bay'net and shot; 
And few of the English and Irish 

Would ever return from that spot. 



63 



Great War Ballads 



**The General (wise to their tactics) 

Gave orders to Phelim 'Toole; 
Says he, *It is often the best plan 

For wise men to hazard the fool : 

*' 'Get out your brigade of brave Irish 
And charge up that hill, on the right — 

The Proossians will argue we done it 
To bring on a general fight; 

** *By which they will guess re-enforcements. 
Perhaps a reserve in the rear, — 

And that will delay their maneuvers, 
Until we can get out of here. 

** 'Stick to it, my lad, till you scare them; 

Destroy any guns that you can: 
Come back when we feint to support you — 

God help you. my brave Irish man.' 



64 



The drlory of Plielim 0' Toole 



** 'Come back,' says I, *Sure with the angels!' 
But Phelim swore, 'Devils in pitch! 

Come on my boys! Charge! To the Dutchmen! 
Ho! Follow me! Out of the ditch!' 

"Those divils from Ireland! God bless them! 

They follow him up to the hill, 
Flat down on their bellies they're crawling— 

On! upward! they struggle until 

"The long line of blood that's behind them 
Gives pause to the bravest man there; — 

But, just as they waver, up Phelim 
Jumps, swinging his gun in the air; 

"A target for thousands of Bosches, 

He stands on the top of a stone, 
And shouts like a God in that wild din, 

'Come on, boys! I charge 'em alone!' 



65 



Great War Ballads 



**0h then, you can see a strange glitter 

A -light in the eyes of his men; 
No torment of grim death can stop them— 

They follow their leader again." 

Daddy! I knew what was coming — 
Your Maggie fell down in a swoon; 

And Mickey took on like a wild man, 
For fright of it — luckily, soon, 

1 came to myself, but my head swam; 

A dizzy feel blinded my eyes; 
And, while I was foolish, I moaned out, 
"Don't tell it me! tell me no lies!" 

What for did I get to my right mind? 

'Tis sorrow we love here, not mirth; 
We pluck the sweet flower from the green stem, 

Smile on it, and crush it to earth. — 



66 



The Glory of Phelim O' Toole 



*'0 Mickey, o'chone, ye must tell it! — 
Hush Mickey, ye'll murther me dead!" 

And so I wailed under my sorrow, 
Too wild- like to know what I said. 

And when I was worn out with weeping". 

Again, I could listen to him; 
And oh, what he told of those Germans! 

Bad cess to the nation of thim. — 

But guess now, dear Father, what happened? 

While writing you this, by his bed. 
And while I was teeming with anger, 

He opened his eyes, and he said; 

"What dream is this? is it a vision? 

Or is it a dear ghost I see? 
I thought I was kilt on that steep hill; 

God help me! that's Maggie McGee! 



67 



Great War Ballads 



"Are you, too, my colleen, a spirit? 

Your sweet life put out in that war? 
Dear God! must they slaughter such children, 

To humor that crazed Emperor?" 

His words were that strange, but his clear eyes 

With nothing of madness shone; 
And when I leaned over and kissed him, 

I knew that his fever had gone. 

That good news broke into the sad tale 
Our poor little Mickey had told. — 

And he's to the war, such a small man. 
With his big heart of purified gold. 

And, my dear Father! the doctor 
Assures me that Phelim will live; 

And when he gets well we will come back, — 
And your little Maggie will give 



68 



The Glory of Phelim 0' Toole 



The strength of her two arms to Phelim, - 
My darling-, brave, one-armed boy! — 

And do ye remember that cottage 

That's close by the banks of the Moy? 



69 



I£ntrfnrl|pb 0u ®Ij? Amu 



The Fifth Huzzars were ordered out 

To labor at the trenches, 
Along the Aisne a blinding rain 

Came down in sheets and drenches. 

A young lieutenant took a spade, 

And cast away his saber, 
"My lads,'* he said **dig up a clod,- 

And glory be to labor. 

**But while I dig a word to you, 
Old man beside my elbow, 

When I enrolled I left a girl 

Who thought I was a swell beau: 

71 



Great War Ballads 



"Laugh not, old man, for I can talk; 

In moonlight like another; 
But now, I want to talk to you 

As if you were my brother. 

**It's all about the girl I left— 

The darling little petite — 
She gave me this, and if I'm shot 

I hope you won't forget it." 

With this he took a picture out 
And flashed it at the old man; 

**She's sweeter than the smile you see, 
And worth her weight in gold, man." 

** Young man," he said, "I'm not so old, 

But I might be her father; 
I have a picture I might show. 

If it were not a bother." 



72 



Entrenched On The Aisne 



And all the while they bantered thus, 
The shells were bursting 'round them, 

And the downpour in the trenches ran, 
Small wonder if it drowned them. 

No doubt the youth was edging up 

To tell a sober story, 
A message for the girl if he 
Should fall in trenches gory. 

The Germans now had got the range, 
Their cannonade was furious; 

"I say, old man, the way those shells 
Go skyting round is curious." 

And at the word a bursting shell, 
Filled with a hellish mixture 

Tore from its roots the poor lad's arm 
That held the sweetheart's picture. 



73 



Great War Ballads 



Another dreadful fragment struck 
The old man on the forehead — 

And, just to use plain English now. 
The niass was something horrid. 

And there they lay with glassy eyes 

Until the night was starry. 
Sad magnets for the Red Cross girls 

Who hunt their mangled quarry. 

The youth's torn limb not far from him. 
Still clutched the dear love-token; 

The old man had a duplicate, 

Though stained with blood and broken. 



74 



I|atts Hinkelmattn 




Hans Vinklemann was yust thot way. 

He aways dit wot he was tolt; 
By witch thot night he met his dett, 

Und it was awful colt. 

You see, December it was then, 
Way off by Warsaw mit the Poles, 

All kinds of plizzards plew, und we 
Kept warm by digging holes. 

So Hans was digging, like so me, 

Venn oop the kepting comes, mit shout, 

' 'Hans Vinkelmann ! ' ' und Hans says, * 'Here ! * ' 
"Veil then, thot trench get out; 

75 



Great War Ballads 



"Und come by me, we need a man 
Off yonder by thot picket line; 

You must not leef mitout my wort, — • 
Relief will be at nine." 

Veil Venn a sentry vent the rount, 
Perhaps by eight o'clock, or so. 

He met poor Hans half dett mit colt, 
Und standing in the snow; 

Und Han?, he said, "My comrade Yake, 
I feel mit shivers, colt as ice, 

I wish you giff the kepting this 
For Yennie if I dies." 

So Yake comes pack und tells it all — 
Up yoomped the kepting, und he swore, 

*'Py Tamm! if he is scairt of colt, 
Vot vill he do in vore?" 



76 



Hans Winkebnann 



Yust then a thousand Rooshians yelt, 
Like hell-fire tyefulls, or wot not; 

Und wile we fought to safe our lifes, 
Poor Hans was all forgot. 

The other sentries hurried in, 

Und choined us mit the Rooshian fight; 
I tell you wot, we licked 'em goot, 

Und kept it oop all night. 

Veil howso thot, venn morning comes, 
We looks arount und counts our men; 

The kepting calls our names, und calls, 
"Hans Vinkelmann!" again. 

No answer comes, und ware is Hans? 

He is not on the ploody grount; 
Und any ware we looks for him, 

No sign of him is fount. 



77 



Great War Ballads 



But Yakey was a cunning Yew, 
Und said, "Py Yim, I bet I know, 

Hans Vinkelmann is keeping guart, 
Und standing in the snow!" 

Vee didn't vait for leef at all — 
The morning light was werry dim, 

But pretty soon we fount poor Hans, 
Or wot was left of him. 

We fount two dett wolfs on the snow, 
A gun, some pones, a uniform; 

Goot Gott! this Rooshian vore is colt,- 
Perhaps, yet, Hans is warm. 



78 



A Iflgian ^na 




The drums were rolling the reveill e, 
But the Belgian dozed in his trench; 

A Turco yelled in his ear, **Away, 
The Huns are whipping the French." 

The Turco's shout was like the last trump, 
And our soldier jumped to his feet — 

"Lead on," he cried, and brandished his gun- 
**A charge boys, never defeat!" 

The Turco grinned, his white teeth shone, 
The French around him guffahed; — 

Our Belgian hero, clutched in a dream, 
Waved cap in the air, — and hurrahed. 

79 



Great War Ballads 



He flourished his gun, and with the butt end 
Laid the Turco flat on the ground; 

And while he shouted, "A-bas le Dutch!" 
King Albert happened around. 

* 'What ails you, my man?" the brave king said. 

And our wild-eyed hero replied, 
"In that deep ditch my dear wife's corpse. 

And her infant dead at her side. — 

"My God, I cannot begin to tell 

The horrors I saw that night — 
Those brutes caught my wife and our dear child 

And slaughtered them in my sight. 

"And that was not all: I stood there bound. 

To sharpen their brutal fun; 
And while I raved my captor laughed 

And prodded me with his gun. 



80 



A Belgian Hero 



"Oh, see you not there in that foul ditch, 

That beautiful woman lies? 
That poor, poor clay is my dear wife, 

And Death looks up from her eyes." 

"Enough, my good man," the brave king said, 
'* 'Tis not the end of this war." 

And the laughter was hushed, and stern and 
grim 
Were they who had laughed before. 

Then up from the ground the Turco rose, 

Majestic in six foot three; 
He swore a great oath as dark as himself. 

And his eyes were as green as the sea. 

Two strides — he stood by the grief-struck man, 
Who had nearly broken his head, 

And standing there, like a bronze statue, 
Saluted the king and said; 



81 



Great War Ballads 



"Together we fight, my comrade he, 

We give-a the Bosches hell." — 
As he walked away with a panther's step, 

You could see the great muscles swell. 

Hot coffee was passed along the ranks, 

And the soldiers gave a cheer; 
Before they could eat the cannons roared. 

As would make the arch-devil fear. 

Destruction rained from the east and the west, 

Hot sheets of flame shot out, 
And a multitude of German lungs 

Broke forth in a mighty shout. 

An order was given to charge the guns. 
And "Vive la France" went the round— 

Oh Christ! what a glorious sight to see 
Those men on the shot-swept ground ! 



82 



A Belgian Hero 



Ahead of the line our Belgian ran, 

A frenzy rolled in his eye; 
Around him they fell but his life was charmed, 

He had no reason to die. 

Now at them! his vengeance three-fold fierce, 

He lunged in reckless hate; 
His bayonet dripped with Teuton blood; 

It seemed he could play with fate. 

And always beside him the Turco fought. 

Superb in his six foot three; 
To right, to left, he guarded his friend, — 

Too blind in his rage to see. 

A rout, a rout! the German host 
Scattered like chaff on the plain; — 

But the French fell back, for the multitude 
Of foes that rallied again. 



83 



Great War Ballads 



And as they retreated our Belgian fell; 

He would not take the alarm; 
But the Turco gently picked him up, 

And tucked him under his arm. 

He cocked a bright plume above his right ear; 

He swaggered as if on parade; 
The petrified Germans halted pursuit, 

Astonished, not whipped or afraid. 

No halo of mist, as the poets tell, 

Nor angel nor saint appeared. 
But the rattle of arms was stopped a while, 

As the foeman shauted and cheered. 

'Twas only a small man crazed with wrong. 
Whose vengeance caused the deed; 

'Twas only a dark man reckless of life, 
When a friend of his had need. 



84 



A Belgian Hero 



With never a look back he crossed that field, 

And went where the good king stood, 
And laid on the ground, with never a word, 
The mangled man covered with blood. 

King Albert knelt to the shattered form, 

And felt his pulse with care. 
And a holy dew welled in his eyes 

When he knew that life was there. 

And when he got up he said a few words 
That a thousand thoughts revealed — 

"The man is not dead, the war is not done, 
There's a God of the battle field." 



85 



uiljp 3FtrBt lalkan 5iar 



The sound of battle haunts my dreams; — 

I hear the sabers clash, 
The ringing steel of scimitars, 

That in the sunlight flash; 

The myriad rifles' sharp report. 

The cannons' awful roar. 
Shouts of the victors, shrieks and groans. 

The horrid voice of War. 

The startling sounds of horses hoofs, 

Across the plains of Thrace, 
Beat rhythmic on historic ground, 

The knell of Turkish race. 

87 



Great War Ballads 



Unfurl proud banner of the free, 

Unfurl on Balkan peak; 
Trail the v'le Crescent in the dust 

Before the conquering Greek. 

glorious heroes of the past, 
Come back from Marathon! 

Renew the valor of those days, 
On fields of Macedon. 

frenzied child! widow frail! 

Weep not upon the sod 
That hides the valiant hero's form 

Whose soul has gone to God. 



88 



§>anmts 



I 

If far in heaven dwells the Lord of Peace, 
Who long ago commanded us to love 
Our neighbors as ourselves, and, far above. 
Looks down in sorrow on our wickedness. 

Unchecked, — this world-wide slaughter must increase 
With new forms of destruction, framed to move 
More deadly through the elements, and prove 
Inferno pupil to man's deviltries. — > 

Oh strange conclusion, if a ruthless war 

Is by a wise God used for love's great gain. 
And what appears most wicked is most good. 

A righteous cause compels the cannon's roar. 

And million?, Christ-like, willingly are slain 
To weld a bond of love with their life-blood. 

89 



Great War Ballads 



II 



When Caesar slaughtered millions for the lust 
Of savage legions, brutalized in crime, 
And spread destruction where compounding Time 
Had promised fruitage from the trampled dust, 

To dupe those cutthroats he proclaimed his trust 
In phantom gods, revered in every clime, — 
In song adored, and adulating rhyme, — 
But died himself of many a dastard thrust. 

What living God may Kaisers now suborn 
To legalize the murder of our day. 
And filch religion for their wickedness? 

The Living Deity may rather scorn 

The Jioly phrases used by kings of clay, 
And harken to the lowly in distress. 



90 




bonnets 



III 



Elijah, gazing with prophetic eye, 

Might read a warning from the scroll of fate, 
Or, from his mountain far through Heaven's gate, 
In urgent prayer appeal to the Most High: 

What visionary now can satisfy 

The sharp demand of this abnormal date, 
While rival nations from a gulf of hate 
Pour prayers, conflicting, to the fretted sky? 

Although the lamp of reason through the gloom 
May hardly penetrate with feeble ray, 
The wise may read a lesson from the past, — 

May truly prophecy the certain doom 

Of scheming monarchs, and abetter day 
When universal love shall reign tt last. 



91 



Great War Ballads 



IV 



Harsh blow the cold winds from the barren north, 
Hurling battalians of sharp hail and sleet 
Over the genial south, — to blast and beat 
Frail blossoms that the fruitful soil brought 
forth: 

But all that turmoil gives an equal worth; 
For cold death is a foil to living heat, 
New life is nourished in death's winding sheet, 
And from the dead, — life beautifies the earth. 

Why, then, this v/onder that a war-mad king 
May hurl his legions to destroy dear life, 
Dispensing in God's name unholy hate? 

From all that winter-frost of hate may spring 
A summer of sweet love to end all strife; 
And hallowed peace may be our last estate. 



92 



Pfr0?«0 anil iifbuaa 



In their eternal prison, ^olus, 
Had 'mured the floating winds, and Lucifer, 
Reminder of our daily labor, rose 
Magnificent upon the lofty sky; 
And while that splendor told the coming dawn 
The hero Perseus bound celestial wings 
Securely on his feet, and girt his sword. 
And sped wing-footed through the liquid air. 

Innumerous kingdoms far behind were left, 
Till peoples Ethiopic, and the lands 
Of Cepheus were beneath his lofty view. 



93 



Perseus arid Medusa 



There Ammon, the Unjust, had made decree 
Andromeda, though innocent, herself. 
Should suffer for her mothers boastful tongue; 
And, having bound her to the sacrifice. 
They fettered her upon a rocky cliff, 
Where lashed the waters of the sounding sea. 

And Perseus, floating on his god-like wings. 
When he beheld her fastened to that rock. 
Believed he saw a statue; but the breeze 
Moved in her hair, and from her lovely eyes 
The warm tears fell. Her beauty so amazed 
Him, though unconscious captive of her charms. 
His nimble wings almost forgot to wave. 

Alighted on the shore, he thus began; 
'0 fairest! cruel are the chains that bind 
Thy body— much more worthy golden links 
That bind a lover's heart! Make known to me 
Thy country's name, and thine; and why art thou 

94 



Andromeda 



Bound helpless to this rock in heavy chains.'* 

O'ercome with virgin shame, she only sighed, 
While she was vainly striving to conceal 
Her lovely form, but fettered so she could not move, 
Was only able to avert her eyes 
Whose tears for sympathy could only plead. 

But still he urged, and lest her lack of speech 
Might seem confession of a wicked crime 
She told her name, her native country's name. 
And how her beauty caused her mother's pride; 
But while she spake the mighty ocean roared. 
And swiftly over the dark w^ves approached 
An ocean monster, his huge head erect, 
Breasting the wide expanse. The virgin shrieked, — 
Her wretched mother raved upon her breast. 
And her enfeebled father cursed his gods; — 
Mingling their lamentations with their tears, 
They clung distracted to her fettered form. 



95 



Perseus and Medusa 



And thus the hero spake; "Time waits for tears, 
But quickly flies the moment of our need. — 
Were I, the son of sky- compelling Jove, 
And her v- horn he embraced in Fhowers of gold, 
I, Pei ■J'', who destroyed the Gorgon, wreathed 
With snake-hair; I who dare on waving wings 
To cleave etherial air; were I to ask 
This maid in marriage, I should be preferred 
Above all others as your son-in-law. 

"Not satisfied with deeds achieved, I strive 
To add such merit as the Gods permit; 
Now, therefore, should my valor save her life, 
Be it conditioned that I win her love." — 
To this her parents gave a glad assent; 
For who would hesitate? And they entreat. 
And promise him the kingdom as a dower. 

Lo, as a ship with fixed beak speeds on,— 

96 



Perseus and the Sea-Monster 

Forced forwards by the straining arms of youths, 
It plows the deep; so, breasting the great waves, 
The monster moved,— until to reach the rock 
No further space remained than might the whirl 
Of Balearic sling encompass, through 
The middle skies, with plummet of hard lead. — 

That instant, spurning with his feet the ground, 
Up to a cloudy hight rose Perseus; 
And, when the shadow of that hero marked 
The surface of the sea, the monster sought 
Vainly to vent his fury on the shade. 

As when the bird of Jupiter beholds 
A basking serpent on the shimmering plain, 
Exposing to the sun its spotted coils, — 
He seizes on its back, and lest it turn 
To strike with venomed fangs, he fixes fast 
His grasping talons through the scaly neck; — 
So did the winged hero, in swift flight 



97 



Perseus and Medusa 



Through yielding element, press down 

On the great monster's back, and thrust his sword, 

Sheer to the hilt, back of the shoulder blade. — 

Its frightful bellows sounded o'er the sea; 
Wild with the grievous wound the monster reared 
High in the air, or plunged into the waves. 
Or wheeled around ; — so turns the f rigthened boar. 
Shunning the hounds around him in full cry. — 
On his active wings the hero avoids 
The monster's jaws, and with his pointed sword 
Tortures its back wherever may be pierced 
The mail of hollow shell; or strikes betwixt 
The curving ribs, or wounds its lashing tail. 
Long- tapered as a fish. The monster spues 
Forth streams incarnadined with blood, 
That spout upon the hero's wings. — Now, wet 
And heavy with that spume, no more dares he 
To trust his fortune to his dripping wings; 
But he discerns a rock, which rises clear 

98 



Sea Weeds Changed to Coral 



Above the waters, when the sea is calm, 
But now is seen beneath the troubled waves: 
On this he rests; and, as his left hand holds 
Firm on its upper ledge, he thrusts his sword. 
Times more than three, unswerving in its aim, 
Clear through the monster's entrails. — 

Shouts of praise 
Resound along the shores, and even the Gods 
M ay hear his glory in their high abodes. ^ — 
Her parents, Cepheus and Cassiope, 
Most joyfully salute their son-in-law. 
Declaring him the saviour of their throne. — 
And now, her chains struck off, the lovely cause 
And guerdon of his toil walks on the shore. 

The hero washes his victorious hands 
In water freshly taken. from the sea: 
But lest the sand upon the shore might harm 
The viper-covered head, he first prepared 

99 



Perseus and Medusa 



A bed of springry leaves, on which he threw 

Weeds of the sea produced beneath the waves: 

On them he laid Medusa's awful face. 

Daughter of Phorcys; and the living weeds, 

Fresh-taken from the boundless deep, im.bibed 

The baneful poison in their spongy pith. 

They hardened at the touch, and felt in branch 

And leaf unwonted stiffness. Sea-Nymphs, too, 

Attempted to perform that prodigy 

On numerous other weeds with like result. — 

So, pleased with their success, they raised new seeds 

From plants wide-scattered o'er the salt expanse. 

And from that day the coral has retained 

Such wondrous nature that exposed to air 

It hardens. Thus, a plant beneath the waves 

Becomes a stone when taken from the sea. 

Three altars to the Gods he wrought of turf: 
To thee, victorious Virgin, did he build 
An altar on the right, to Mercury 



100 



the Wedding Peasi 



An altar on the left, and unto Jove 
An altar in the midst. He sacrificed 
A heifer to Minerva, and a calf 
To Mercury, the wing-foot, and a bull 
To thee, srreatest of the Deities. 

Without a dower he takes Andromeda, 
The guerdon of his glorious victory, — 
Nor hesitates. — Now pacing in the van 
Both Love and Hymen v/ave the nuptial torch. 
Abundant perfumes lavished on the flames. 
Flageolets and lyres resound, and songs; 
Felicit* notes that happy hearts declare. — 
The portals opened, sumptuous halls display 
Their golden splendors; and the noble lords 
Of Cepheus' court take places at the feast. 
Magnificently served. — 

m 

After the feast, 
When every heart was warming to the joys 

101 



Perseus and Medusa 



Of genial Bacchus, Perseus (of the hero-race 
Of Abas) questioned how they lived and what 
Their customs. Unto him at once replied 
Lyncides and disclosed the manners, laws 
And habits of that land; which having done 
He made request, "Most valiant Perseus tell 
The story of the deed, that we may know, 
And what the arts and power prevailed, when thou 
Struck off the serpent-covered head." 

"There is," 
Thus answered Perseus to his guest, 
There is a spot beneath cold Atlas where, 
In bulwarks of enormous strength, to guard 
Its rocky entrance, dwelt two sisters, born 
Of Phorcys: these were wont to share in turn 
A single eye beween them: this by craft 
I got possesion of,— when one essayed 
To hand it to the other, I put forth 
My hand and took it as it passed between. 

102 



Death of Medusa 



"Then far, remote, through flinty pathless hills, 
Over wild crags that bristled with thick woods, 
I thence arrived to where Medusa dwelt. 
Along the way, in fields and by the roads, 
I saw, on all sides, men and animals — 
Like statues — turned to flinty stone at sight 
Of that dread Gorgon's visage. But with craft, 
Reflected on the polished shield of brass. 
Then borne upon my left, I saw her face. 
When she was helpless in the power of sleep. 
And when her serpent locks were slumber-bound, 
I struck and took her head from off her neck. — 
To winged Pegasus the gore gave birth, 
His brother also, twins of rapid wing.'* 

So did he speak, and truly told, besides. 
The perils of his journey, arduous 
And long. He told of seas and lands that far 
Beneath him he had seen, and of the stars 



103 



Perseus and Medusa 



That he had visited on waving wings. — 
And yet, before they were aware the tale 
Was ended; he was silent. — Then rejoined 
A noble with enquiry, why, alone 
Of those three sisters, snakes w^ere interspersed 
Through dread Medusa's locks; and he replied; 

"Because, stranger, it is thy desire 
To learn what worthy is for me to tell. 
Hear ye the cause: — Beyond all others, she 
Was famed for beauty, and the anxious hope 
Of many suitors. Words v/ould fail to tell 
The glory of her hair, most wonderful 
Of all her charms. Some friends of mine have ciaim.ed 
They saw it in its splendor. Fame declares 
The Sovereign of the Sea attainted her 
In chaste Minerva's temple, while enraged 
That Goddess turned away and held her shield 
Before her eyes. To punish this great crime 



104 



The Treachery of Phi ne lis 



Minerva changed Medusa's splendid hair 
To serpents, horrible. — And now to strike 
Her foes with fear she wears upon her breast 
Those awful vipers creatures of her rage.*' 

While Perseus, the brave son of Jupiter, 
Surrounded at the feast by Cepheus' lords, 
Narrated this, behold, a multitude 
With sudden outcry filled the royal courts — 
Not with the clamors of a wedding feast 
But boisterou*^ rage, portentous of dread war. 
As when the fury of a great wind strikes 
A tranquil sea, tempestuous billows roll 
Across the peaceful bosom of the deep; 
So were the pleasures at the banquet changed 
To sudden tumult. 

Foremost of that throng, 
The rash ring-leader, Phineus, shook his spear 
Of brass-tipped ash, and shouted, "Ha, 'tis I! 

105 



Perseus and Medusa 



I come avenger of my ravished bride! 
Let now thy flittering v/ings deliver thee, 
Or even Jupiter, dissolved in showers 
Of imitation gold." So boasted he, 
Aiming his spear at Perseus. 

Thus to him 
Cried Cepheus; "Hold thy hand, and strike him not! 
What strange delusions, my brother, have 
Compelled thee to this crime? Is it the just 
Requital of heroic worth? A fair 
Reguerdon for the life of her you loved? 
If truth were known, not Perseus ravished her 
From thee; but, either 'twas tha awful God 
That rules the Nereides; or Ammon, crowned 
With crescent horns; or that monstrosity 
Of Ocean's vast abyss, which came to glut 
His famine on the issue of my loins. 
Nor was thy suit abandoned till the time 
When she must perish and be lost to thee. 

106 



The Treachery of Phineus 



So cruel art thou, seeking my daughter's death, 
Rejoicing lightly in our dsep despair. — 

"And was it not enough for thee to stand 
Supinely b5^ while she was bound in chains, 
And offer no assistance though thou wert 
Her lover snd betrothed? And wilt thou grieve 
That she was rescued from a dreadful fate, 
And spoil her champion of his just rew^ards? 
Rewards that now may seem magnificent, 
But not denied to thee if thou hadst v7on 
And saved, v/hen she was fettered to the rock. 
Let him, whose strength to my declining years 
Restored my child, receive the merit due 
His words and deeds; and know his suit was not 
Preferred to thine, but granted to prevent 
Her certain death." 

Not deigning to reply. 
Against them Phineus stood; and glancing back 

107 



Perseus and Medusa 



From him to Perseus, with alternate looks, 

As doubtful which should feel his first attack, 

Made brief delay. Then vain at Perseus hurled 

His spear, with all the force that rage inspired. 

But, missing him it quivered in a couch. 

Provoked beyond endurance Perseus leaped 

Forth from the cushioned seats, and fiercely sent 

That outwrenched weapon back. It v\^ould have pierced 

His hostile breast had not the miscreant crouched 

Behind the altars. Oh perverted good, 

That thus an altar should abet the wrong! 

But, though the craven Phineus escaped, 

Not vainley flew the whizzing point, but struck 

In Rhoetus' forehead. As the I arb was torn 

Out of the bone the victim's heels began 

To kick upon the floor, and spouting blood 

Defiled the festal board. Then truly flame 

In uncontroll ed rage the vulgar crowd. 

And hurl their harmful darts. 



108 



The Battle for Andromeda 




And there are some 
Who hold that Cepheus and his son-in-law 
Deserved. to die; but Cepheus had passed forth 
The threshold of his palace, having called 
On all the Gods of Hospitality 
And Truth and Justice to attest, he gave 
No comfort to the enemies of Peace. 

Unconqa3red Pallas is at hand and holds 
Her ^gis to protect her brother's life; 
She lends him dauntless courage. At the feast 
Was one from India's distant shores, whose name 
W£S Athis. It was said that Limnate, 
The daughter of the River Ganges, him 
In vitreous caverns bright had brought to birth; 
And now at sixteen summers in his prime 
The handsome youth was clad in costly robes. 
A purple mantle with a golden fringe 
Covered his shoulders, and a necklace, wrought 
Of gold, enhanced the beauty of his throat. 

109 



Perseus and Medusa 



His hair encompassed with a coronal, 

Delights with fragrant myrrh. Well taught was he 

To hurl the javelin at a distant mark, 

And none with better skill could stretch the bow. 

No sooner had he bent the pliant horns 
Than Perseus, with a smoking billet, seized 
From the mid-altar, struck him on the face, 
And smashed his features in his broken skull. 

Now, when Assyrian Lycabas beheld 
His dear companion, whom he truly loved, 
Beating his handsome countenance in blood. 
And when he had bewail ed his lost life. 
That ebbed away from that unpiteous wound, 
He snatched the bow that Athis used, and said; 

**Let us in single combat seek revenge; 
Not long shalt thou rejoice the stripling's fate; 
A deed most worthy shame." So speaking, forth 



110 



The Battle for Andromeda 



The piercing arrow bounded from the cord, 

Which, though avoided, struck the hero's cloak 

And fastened in its folds. — Then Perseus turned 

Upon him with the trusted curving sword 

That wrought Medusa's death, and drove the blade 

Deep in his breast. The dying victim's eyes, 

Now swimming in a shadowous night, looked 'round 

For Athis, whom, beholding, he reclined 

Upon, and ushered to the other world, 

Sad consolation of united death. 

Lo, Phorbas the descendant of Methion, 
Who hailed from far Syene, with his friend 
Amphimedon of Libya, in their haste 
To join the battle, slipped up in the blood 
And fell together: just as they arose 
That glittering sword was driven through the throat 
Of Phorbas into the ribs of his companion. 

But Erithus, the son of Actor, swung 
111 



Perseus and Medusa 



A battle-ax, so weighty, Perseus chose 

Not combat with his curving blade. He seized 

In his two hands a huge bowl, wrought around 

With large design, outstanding from its mass. 

This, lifting up, he dashes on his foe. 

Who vomits crimson blood, and falling back 

Beats on the hard floor with his dying head. 

And many more he slew in many ways, 

And trampled on the dying heaped around. 

Not daring to engage his enemy 
In open contest, Phineus held aloof. 
And hurled his javelin. Badly aimed— by some 
Mischance or turned — it wounded Idas, who 
Had followed neither side; vain-hoping thus 
To shun the conflict. Idas, filled with rage, 
On Phineus gazed with futile hate, and said, 
"Since I am forced unwilling to such deeds, 
Behold, whom thou hast made thine enemy, 
savage Phineus! Let thy recompense 

112 



The Battle for Andromeda 



Be stroke for stroke.'* So speaking, from the wound 
He drew the steel, but, faint from loss of blood, 
Before his arm could hurl the weapon back, 
He sank upon his knees. 

Here, also, lies 
Odites, — noblest of the Cephenes, 
Save Cepheus only, — slaughtered by the sword 
Of Clymenus. And Prothoenor lies 
The victim of Hypseus; by his side 
Hypseus slaughtered by Lyncidas falls. 

And in the midst of this destruction stood 
Emathion, now an aged man, revered, 
Who feared the Gods and wrought for upright deeds. 
And, since his years denied him strength for war, 
Ha battled with his tongue, and railed, and cursed 
Their impious v^^eapons. As that aged man 
Clings to the altar with his trembling hands, 
Chromis with ruthless sword cuts off his head, 

113 



Perseus and Medusa 



Which straightway falls upon the altar, whence 
His dying tongue denounces them in w^ords 
Of execration: and his soul expires 
Amid the altar flames. 

Then Broteas 
And Ammon, his twin brother, who not knew 
Their equals at the cestus, by the hand 
Of Phineus fell; for what avails in deed 
The cestus as a weapon mi;tched with swords. 
Ampycus by the same hand fell, — the priest 
Of Ceres, with his temples wreathed in white. 

And 0, lapetides not for this 
Didst thou attend the feast! Thy voice attuned 
Melodious to the harp, was in request 
To celebrate the wedding day with song, — 
A work of peace; as thou didst stand aside. 
Holding the peaceful plectrum in thy hand, 
The mocking Pettalus in ridicule said, 

114 



The Battle for Andromeda 



**Go sing thy ditties to the Stygian shades.*' 
And, mocking thus, he drove his pointed sword 
In thy right temple. As thy limbs gave way 
Thy dying fingers swept the tuneful strings; 
And falling thou didst chant a mournful dirge. 
Thee to avenge enraged Lycormas tore 
A huge bar from the door-post, on the right, 
And dashing it against the mocker crushed 
His neck-bones: as a slaughtered bullock falls- 
He tumbled to the ground. 

Then on the left, 
Cinyphian Pelate s began to wrench 
An oak plank from the door-post, but the spear 
Of Corythup, the son of Marmarus, 
Pinioned his right hand to the wooden post; 
And while he struggled Abas pierced his side. 
He fell not to the floor, but dying hung 
Suspended from the door-post by his hand. 



115 



Perseus and Medusd 



And of the friends of Perseus, Melaneus 
Was slain, and Dorylas whose wealth was large 
In Nasamonian land. No other lord, 
As Dorylas, such vast estates possessed; 
No other owned so many heaps of corn. 
The missile steel stood fastened in his groin. 
Obliquely fixed, — a fatal spot — and when 
The author of his wound, Halcyoneus 
The Bactrian, beheld his victim thus, 
Rolling his eyes and sobbing forth his soul, 
He railed; "Keep for thyself all thy lands 
As much as thou canst cover. ' ' And he left 
The bleeding corpse. 

But Perseus in revenge 
Hurled after him a spear, which, in his need, 
He ripped out from the wound, yet warm, and struck 
The boaster on the middle of his nose. 
The piercing steel, passed through his nose and neck, 
Remained projecting from the front and back. 



116 



The battle for Andromeda 



And while good fortune helped his hand, he slew 
Clanis and Clytius, of one mother born, 
But with a different wound he slaughtered each: 
For, leveled by a mighty arm, his ashen spear 
Drove through the thighs of Clytius, right and left, 
And Clanis bit the javelin with his teeth. 

And by his might, Mendesian Celadon 
And Atreus fell, his mother of the tribes 
Of Palestine, his father was unknown, 
-^thion, also, who could well foresee 
The things to come, but was at last deceived 
By some false omen. And Thoactes fell, 
The armour-bearer of the king; and, next, 
The infamous Agyrtes who had slain 
His father. These he slew; and though his strength 
Was nearly spent, a thousand more remained: 
For now the multitude with one accord 
Conspired to slaughter him. From every side 
The raging troops assailed the better cause. 



117 



Perseus and Medtisd 



In vain the pious father and the bride, 
Together with her mother, fill the halls 
With lamentations; for the clash of arms, 
The groans of fallen heroes drown their cries. 
Bellona in a sea of blood has drenched 
Their Household Gods, polluted by these deeds, 
And she endeavors to renew the strife. 

Perseus, alone against that raging throng. 
Is now surrounded by a thousand men, 
Led on by Phineus; and their flying darts, 
As thick as wintry hail, are showered around 
On every side, grazing his eyes and ears. — 
Quickly he fixed his shoulder firm against 
The rock of a great pillar, which secured 
His back from danger, and he faced his foes, 
And baffled their attack. 

Upon his left 
Chaonian Molpeus pressed, and on his right 



118 



The Battle J or Andromeda 



A Nabathean called Ethemon pressed. — 
As when a tiger from a valley hears 
The lowing of two herds, in separate fields, 
Though hunger urges he not knows on which 
To spring, but rages equally for each; 
So, Perseus doubtful which may first attack 
His left or right, knows not on which to turn. 
But stands attentive to behold the flight 
Of Molpeus, whom he wounded in the leg. 
Nor could he choose — Ethemon, full of rage, 
Pressed on him to inflict a fatal wound. 
Deep in his neck; but with incautious force 
Struck the stone pillar with his ringing sword 
And shattered the metal blade, close to the hilt; 
The flying fragment pierced its owner's neck, 
But not with mortal wound. In vain he pled 
For mercy, stretching forth his helpless arms: 
Perseus transfixed him with his glittering blade, 
Cyllenian. 



119 



Perseus and Medusa 



But when he saw his strength 
Was yielding to the multitude, he said, 
**Since you have forced it on yourselves, behold, 
I seek unwilling aid from hostile scource. 
friends, avert your faces if ye stand 
Before me!" And he raised Medusa's head. 

Thescelus answered him; "Seek other dupes 
To chase with wonders!" Just as he prepared 
To hurl the deadly javelin from his hand 
He stood, unmoving in that attitude, 
A marble statue. 

Ampyx, close to him, 
Exulting in a mighty spirit, made 
A lunge to pierce Lyncides in the breast; 
But, as his sword was flashing in the air. 
His right arm grew so rigid that he stood 
Unable to draw back or thrust it forth. 



120 



The Warriors Turned to Stone 

But Nileus, who had feigned himself begot 
By seven-fold Nile, and carved his shield with gold 
And silver streams, alternate seven, shouted; 
"Behold, Perseus, him from whom I sprung! 
And thou shalt carry to the silent shades 
A mighty consolation in thy death 
That thou wert slain by such a one as I.'* 
But in the midst of boasting, the last words 
Were silenced; and his open mouth, although 
Incapable of motion, seemed intent 
To utter speach. 

Then Eryx, chiding says; 
"Your craven spirits have benumbed you, not 
Medusa's poison. — Come with me and strike 
This youthful mover of magician charms 
Down to the ground." — He started with a rush; 
The earth detained his steps; it held him fast; 
He could not speak; he stood, complete with arms, 
A statue. 



121 



Perseus and Medusa ■ 



Such a penalty was theirs, 
And justly earned; but near by there was one, 
Aconteus, who defending Perseus, saw 
Medusa as he fought; and at the sight 
The soldier hardened to an upright stone. — 
Assured he was alive, Astyages 
Now struck him with his long sword, but the blade 
Resounded with a ringing note; and there. 
Astonished at the sound, Astyages, 
Himself, assumed that nature; and remained 
With wonder pictured on his marble face. 

And not to weary with the names of men, 
Sprung from the middle classes, there remained 
Two hundred warriors eager for the fight — 
As soon as they beheld Medusa's face 
Two hundred warriors stiffened into stone. 

At last, repentant, Phineus dreads the war, 
Unjust, and in a helpless fright beholds 



122 



Phineiis Pleads for Life 



The statues standing in strange attitudes; 

And, recognizing his adherents, calls 

On each by name to rescue him from death. 

StiJl unbelieving he begins to touch 

The bodies, nearest to himself, and all 

Are hard stone. Having turned his eyes away, 

He stretched his hands and arms obliquely back 

To Perseus, and confessed his wicked deeds; 

And thus imploring spake; 

"Remove, I pray, 
Perseus, thou invincible, remove 
From me that dreadful Gorgon: take av/ay 
The stone-creating countenance of thy 
Unspeakable Medusa! For we warred 
Not out of hatred, nor to gain a throne, 
But clashed our weapons for a woman's sake. — 
Thy merit proved thy valid claim, and time 
Gave argument for mine. It grieves me not 
To yield, bravest, only give me life, 



123 



Perseus and Medusa 



And all the rest is thine." Such words implored 
The craven, never daring to address 
His eyes to whom he spake. 

And thus returned 
The valiant Perseus; "1 will grant to thee, 
0, timid-hearted Phineus! as behoves 
Thy conduct; and it should appear a gift, 
Magnanimous, to one who fears to move. — 
Take courage, for no steel shall violate 
Thy carcase; and, moreover, thou shalt be 
A monument, that ages may record 
Thy unforgotten name. Thou shalt be seen 
Thus always, in the palace where resides 
My father-in-law, that my surrendered spouse 
May oft console her grief when she beholds 
The darling image of her first betrothed." 

He spake, and moved Medusa to that side 
Where Phineus had turned his trembling face: 



124 



The Transformation of Phineus 

And as he struggled to avert his gaze 
His neck grew stiff; the moisture of his eyes 
Was hardened into stone. — And since that day 
His timid face and coward eyes and hands, 
Forever shall be guilty as in life. 



125 



pttitipua una mute 



Tiresius unto Pentheus prophecied, 
"Oh glad the day to thee, if, light denied, 
Thine eyes, most fortunate, should not behold 
The Bacchanalian rites! The day shall come. 
And soon the light shall dawn, when Bacchus, born 
Of Semel e, shall make his advent known — 
All hail the new God Bacchus! Lest thou first 
Shalt build a temple to this Deity, 
Thou shalt be torn asunder, thy remains. 
Throughout the forest scattered, shall pollute 
The woods with sanguinary streams; and thy 

127 



Phentheus and Bacchus 



Life-blood bespatter with corrupting blots 
Thy frenzied mother and her sisters twain. 
And all shall come to pass, as I have told, 
Because thou wilt not honor the New God. 
And thou shalt wail and marvel at the sight 
Of blind Tiresias, though veiled in night". 

And as he spake, lo, Pentheus drove the seer: 
But all his words, prophetic, were fulfilled, 
And confirmation followed in his steps. — 
Bacchus at once appears, and all the fields 
With festal shouts resound; the howling rout 
Madly runs forward; and the newly wed, 
Mixing with matrons in the motley throng 
Are borne resistless to the unknown rites. 

Then Pentheus cries; "What madness, ye brave 
Descendants of the Dragon! Sons of Mars! 
What frenzy has confounded you? Can sounds 
Of clanging brass prevail, and pipes and horns, 

128 



The Wrath of Pentheus 



And magical delusions, drunkenness, 
And yelling women, and obscene displays, 
And hollow drums overcome you whom the sword. 
Nor troops of war, nor trumpet could affright? 

"How shall I wonder at these ancient men. 
Who, crossing boundless seas from distant Tyre, 
Hither transferred their exiled Household Gods, 
And founded a new Tyre; but now are shorn, 
And even as captives would be led away 
Without appeal to Mars? And, young men. 
Of active prime whose vigor equals mine, 
Cast down your ivy scepters; take up arms; 
Put on your helmets; strip your brows of leaves; 
Be mindful of the mighty stock you are, 
And let your souls be animated with 
The spirit of that dauntless dragon, which. 
Unaided, slew so many, and at last 
Died to defend his fountain and his lake. 

"So ye may conquer in the hope of fame. 

129 



Pentheus and Bacchus 



He gave the brave to death, but with your arms 
Ye shall expel the worthless, and enchance 
The glory of your land. If Fate decrees 
The fall of Thebes, Oh, let the engineries 
Of war and men pull down its walls, and let 
The clash of steel and roaring flames resound. 
Thus, blameless in great misery, our woes 
Would be the theme of lamentations, known 
To story; and our tears would shame us not. 

"But now an unarmed boy will conquer Thebes; 
A lad whom neither weapons, wars nor steeds 
Delight; whose ringlets reek with myrrh; adorned 
With chaplets, purple and embroidered robes 
Of interwoven gold. Make way for me! 
And I will soon compel him to confess 
His father is assumed, and all his rites 
Are frauds. 



' 'If in the spirit of Acrisius 
130 



The Wrath of Pentheu^ 



We hold this vain God in deserved contempt, 
And shut the Argive gates against his face, 
Shall such a stranger terrify all Thebes, 
And Pentheus also? Up ye varlets! hence! 
Fetch the vile leader of these rioters 
In chains! Let not my mandate be delayed." 

Him to restrain his grandsire, Cadmus, strove; 
And Athamas, and many of his trusted friends 
United in vain efforts to rebuke 
His reckless rage; but greater violence 
Was gained from every admonition. — 
His rage increased the more it v^as restrained. 
And injury resulted from his friends. 
So have I seen a stream in open course, 
Run gently on its way with pleasant noise, 
But whensoever logs and rocks detained, 
It foamed, with violence increased, athwart 
Obstructions. 



131 



Pentheus and Bacchus 



Presently returned to him 
His servants stained wih blood; and thus he spake, 
"What have ye done with Bacchus?" And to him 
They made reply; "Not Bacchus have we seen, 
But we have taken his attendant lad, 
The chosen servant of his sacred rites." 
And they delivered to the noble king 
A youth whose hands were lashed behind his back. 

Then Pentheus, terrible in anger, turned 
His awful gaze upon the lad, and though 
He scarce deferred his doom, bespake him thus; 
"Doomed to destruction, thou art soon to give 
Example to my people by thy death: 
Tell me thy name; what are thy parents called; 
Where is thy land; and wherefore art thou found 
Attendant on these Bacchanalian rites." 

But fearless he replied; "They call my name 
Acoetes; and Mseonia is the land 

132 



The Story of Acoetes 



From whence I came. My parents were so poor, 
My father left rae neither fruitful fields, 
Tilled by the lusty ox, nor fleecy sheep, 
Nor lowing kine; for, he himself was poor. 
And with his hook and line was wont to catch 
The leaping fishes, landed by his rod. 
His skill v/as all his wealth; and when to me 
He gave his trade he said, 'Thou art the heir 
Of my employment, therefore unto thee 
All that is mine I give,' and, at his death, 
He left me nothing but the running v/aves. — ; 
They are the sum of my inheritance. 

"And, afterwhiie, that I might not be bound 
Forever to my father's rocky shores, 
I learned to steer the keel with dextrous hand; 
And marked with watchful gaze the guiding stars; 
The watery Constellation of the Goat, 
Olenian, and the Bear, the Hyad es, 



133 



Pentheus and Bacchus 



The Pleiad es, the houses of the winds, 
And every harbour suitable for ships. 
So chanced it, as I made for Delus, first 
I veered close to the shores of Naxus; there 
I steered, by plying on the starboard oar, 
And nimbly leaping gained the sea-wet strand. 

"Now when the night was past and lovely dawn 
Appeared, I 'rose from slumber, and I bade 
My m'en to fetch fresh water, and 1 showed 
The pathway to the stream. Then did I climb 
A promontory's hight to learn, perchance, 
The promise of the winds, which having done, 
I called the men and sought once more my ship. 
Opheltes, first of my companions, cried, 
'Behold we come!' And, thinking he had caught 
A worthy prize in that unfruitful land, 
He led a boy, of virgin-beauty formed. 
Across the shore. 



134 



Bacchus Appears 



* 'Heavy with wine and sleep 
The lad appeared to stagger on his way, — 
With difficulty moving. When I saw 
The mannner of his dress, his countenance 
And grace, I knew it was not mortal man, 
And being well assured, to all I spake; 
'What Deity abideth in that form 
I cannot say; but 'tis a God in truth. — 
Oh, whosoe'er thou art, vouchsafe to us 
Propitious waters; ease our toils, and grant 
To these thy grace. ' 

"At this, the one of all 
My mariners which was the quickest hand, 
Which ever was the nimblest on the yards, 
And first to slip the ropes, Dictys exclaimed; 
'Pray not for us!' and all approved his words. 
The golden haired, the guardian of the prow, 
Melanthus, Libys and Alcimedon 
Approved it, and Epopeus who should urge 



135 



Pentheus and Bacchus 



The flagging spirits, and with rhythmic chants 
Give time and measure to the beating oars, 
And all the others praised their leader's words, — • 
So blind is greed of gain.— Then I rejoined, 
'Mine is the greatest share in this good ship, 
Which I will not permit to be destroyed, 
Nor injured by this sacred freight;' and I 
Opposed them as they came. 

"Then Lycabas, 
The most audacious of that impious crew, 
Began to rage. He was a criminal 
Who, for a dreadful murder, had been sent 
In exile from a Tuscan city's gates. 
Whilst I opposed he gripped me by the throat, 
And shook me as would east rne in the deep, 
Had I not firmly held a rope, half stunned. 
And all that wicked crew approved the deed. 

"Then Bacchus (be assured it was the God) 
136 



Bacchus Mocks the Mariners 



As though the noise disturbed his lethargy 
From wine, and reason had regained its power, 
At last bespake the men, 'What deeds are these? 
What noise assails my ears? What means decoyed 
My wandering footsteps? Whither do ye lead?' 
*Fear not,' the steersman said, 'but tell us fair 
The haven of thy hope, and thou shalt land 
Whereso thy heart desires, ' ' To Naxus steer,' 
Quoth Bacchus, 'for it is indeed my home, 
And there the mariner finds welcome cheer.' 
Him to deceive, they pledged themselves and swore 
By Gods of seas and skies to do his will: 
And they commanded me to steer that way. 

"The Isle of Naxus was upon our right, 
And when they saw the sails were set that way, 
They all began to shout at once, 'What, ho! 
Thou madman! what insanity is this, 
Acoetes? Make our passage to the left.' 
And all the while they made their meaning known 

137 



Pentheus and Bacchus 



By artful signs or whispers in my ears. 
I was amazed and answered, 'Take the helm.' 
And I refused to execute their will, 
Atrocious, and at once resigned command. 
Then all began to murmur, and the crew 
Reviled me. Up ^^thalion jumped and spake, 
*As if our safety is in thee, forsooth!' 
With this he swaggered up and took command; 
And leaving Naxus steered for other shores. 

"Then Bacchus, mocking them, — as if but then 
He had discovered their deceitful ways, — 
Looked on the ocean from the rounded stern. 
And seemed to sob as he addressed the men; 
*Ah mariners, what alien shores are these? 
"lis not the land you promised nor the port 
My heart desires. For what have I deserved 
This cruel wrong? What honor can ac2rue 
If strong men mock a boy; a lonely youth 
If many should deceive?' And as he spake 



138 



Bacchus Shows His Power 




I, also, wept to see their wickedness. 

"The impious gang made merry at our tears, 
And lashed the billows with their quickening oars. 
By Bacchus do I swear to you (and naught 
Celestial is more potent) all the things 
I tell you are as true as they surpass 
The limit of belief. The ship stood still 
As if a dry dock held it in the sea. — 
The wondering sailors labored at the oars, 
And they unfurled the sails, in hopes to gain 
Some headway, with redoubled energies; 
But twisting ivies tangled in the oars, 
And interlacing held them by the weight 
Of heavy ivy-berries. Bacchus, crowned 
With chaplets of grape-clusters, shook a lance 
Covered with twisted fronds of leafy vines. 
Around him crouched the visionary forms 
Of tigers, lynxes, and the mottled shapes 
Of panthers. 

139 



Pentheus and Bacchus 



"Then the mariners leaped out, 
Possessed by fear or madness. Medon first 
Began to turn a swarthy hue, and fins 
Grew outward from his flattened trunk, 
And with a curving spine his body bent. — 
Then Lycabas to him, *What prodigy 
Is this that I behold?' Even as he spake 
His jaws were broadened and his nose was bent, 
His hardened skin was covered with bright scales. 
And Libys, as he tried to pull the oars, 
Beheld his own hands shrivel into fins; 
Another of the crew was fain to grasp 
The twisted ropes, but even as he strove 
To lift his arms they fastened to his sides; — 
With bending body and a crooked back 
He plunged into the waves, and as he swam 
Displayed a tail, as crescent as the moon. 

' 'Now here, now there, they flounce about the ship ; 
They spray her decks with brine; they rise and sink; 



140 



The Mariners Transformed to Dolphins 



They rise again, and dive beneath the waves; 

They seem in sportive dance upon the main; 

Oat from their nostrils they spout sprays of brine, 

They toss their supple sides. And I alone, 

Of twenty mariners that manned that ship. 

Remained. A cold chill seized my limbs,— 

I was so frightened; but the gracious God 

Now spake me fair, 'Fear not and steer for Naxus. 

And when we landed there I ministered 

On smoking altars Bacchanalian rites." 

But Pentheus answered him; "A parlous tale, 
And we have listened to the dreary end 
Hoping oar anger might consume its rage; — 
Away with him! hence drag him, hurl him out, 
With dreadful torture, into Stygian night." 

Quickly they seized and dragged Acoetes forth, 
And cast him in a dungeon triple strong. 
And while they fixed the instruments of death, 

141 



Penthetis and Bacchus 



Kindled the fires and wrought the cruel irons, 
The legend sajs, though no one aided him, 
The chains were loosened and slipped off his arms; 
The doors flew open of their own accord. . 

But Pentheus, long-persisting in his rage, 
Not caring to command his men to go, 
Himself went forth to Mount Cithseron, where 
Resound with singing and with shrilly note 
The votaries of Bacchus at their rites. 
As when with sounding brass the trumpeter 
Alarms of war, the mettled charger neighs 
And scents the battle, so the clamored skies 
Resounding with the dreadful outcries fret 
The wrath of Pentheus and his rage enflame. 

About the middle of the mount (with groves 
Around its margin) was a treeless plain. 
Where nothing might conceal. Here as he stood 
To view the sacred rites with impious eyes. 



U2 



The Death of Pentheus 




His mother saw him first. She was so wrought 
With frenzy that she failed to know her son, 
And cast her thyrsus that it wounded him; 
And shouted, "Ho come hither, Ho! 
Come hither my two sisters! a great boar 
Hath strayed into our fields; behold me strike 
And wound him!" . 

As he fled from them in fright 
The raging multitude rushed after him; 
And, as they gathered round that helpless one, 
He cried for mercy and condemned himself. 
Confessing he had sinned against a God. 
And as they wounded him he called his aunt; 
"Autonoe have mercy! Let the shade 
Of sad Actaeon move thee to relent!" 
No pity moved her when she heard that name; 
In a wild frenzy she forgot her son. 
While Pentheus was imploring her, she tore 
His right arm out; her sister Ino wrenched 



143 



Pentheits and Bacchus 



The other from his trunk. He could not stretch 

His arms out to his mother, but he cried, 

"Behold me, mother!" When Agave saw. 

His bleeding limbs, torn, scattered on the ground, 

She howled, and tossed her head, and shook her hair 

That streamed upon the breeze; and when his head 

Was wrenched out from his mangled corpse, 

She clutched it with her blood-smeared fingers, while 

She shouted, "Ho! companions! victory! 

The victory is ours!" So when the wind 

Strips from a lofty tree its leaves, which touched 

By autumn's cold are loosely held, they fall 

Not quicker than the wretch's bleeding limbs 

Were torn asunder by their cursed hands. 

Now, frightened by this terrible event, 
The women of Ismenus celebrate 
The new Bacchantian rites; and they revere 
The sacred altars, heaped with frankincense. 



144 




Pgramus unh Oilitsbe 



When Pyramus and Thisbe, who were known 
The one most handsome of all youthful men, 
The other loveliest of all eastern girls, — 
Lived in adjoining houses, near the walls 
Which Queen Semiramis had built of brick 
Around her famous city, they grew fond. 
And loved each other — meeting often there — 
And as the days went by their love increased. 

They wished to join in marriage, but that joy 
Their fathers had forbidden them to hope; 

145 



Pyramus and Thishe 



And yet, the passion that with equal strength 
Inflamed their minds no parents could forbid. 
No relatives had guessed their secret love, 
For all their converse was by nods and signs; 
And as a smoldering fire may gather heat, 
The more 'tis smothered, so their love increased. 

Now, it so happened, a partition built 
Between their houses, many years ago, 
Was made defective with a little chink; 
A small defect observed by none, although 
For ages there; but what is hid from love? 
Our lovers found the secret opening, 
And used its passage to convey the sounds 
Of gentle murmured words, whose tuneful notes 
Passed oft in safety through that hidden way. 

There, many a time, they stood on either side, 
Thisbe on one and Pyramus the other. 
And when their warm breath touched from lip to lip, 



146 



Pyramus and Thishe 



Their sighs were such as this: "Thou envious wall 

Why art thou standing in the way of those 

Who die for love? What harm could happen thee 

Shouldst thou permit us to enjoy our love? 

But if we ask too much, let us persuade 

That thou wilt open whilst we kiss but once; 

For, we are not ungrateful ; unto thee 

We own our debt; here thou hast left a way 

That breathed words may enter loving ears." 

So vainly whispered they, and when the night 

Began to darken they exchanged farewells; 

Made pretence that they kissed a fond farewell — 

Vain kisses that to love might none avail. 

When dawn removed the glimmering lamps of 
night, 
And the bright sun had dried the dewy grass. 
Again they met where they had told their love; 
And now complaining of their hapless fate. 
In murmurs gentle, they at last resolved. 



147 



Py ramus and This be 



Away to slip upon the quiet night, 

Elude their parents, and, as soon as free, 

Quit the great builded city and their homes. 

Fearful to wander in the pathless fields, 

They chose a trysting place, the tomb of Ninus, 

Where safely they might hide unseen, beneath 

The shadow of a tall mulberry tree. 

Covered with snow-white fruit, close by a spring. 

All is arranged according to their hopes: 
And now the daylight, seeming slowly moved. 
Sinks in the deep waves, and the tardy night 
Arises from the spot where day declines. 

Quickly, the clever Thisbe, having first 
Deceived her parents, opened the closed door: 
She flitted in the silent night awav; 
And, having veiled her face, reached the great tomb, 
And sat beneath the tree; love made her bold. 
There, as she waited, a great lioness 
Approached the near by spring to quench her thirst; 

148 



Pyramus and Thisbc 



Her frothing jaws incarnadined with blood 
Of s]aug:htered oxen. As the moon was bright, 
Thisbe beheld her, and affrighted fled 
With trembling footstep to a gloomy cave; 
And as she ran she slipped and dropped her veil, 
Which fluttered to the ground She did not dare 
To save it. Wherefore, when the savage beast 
Had taken a great draft and slaked her thirst, 
And thence had turned to seek her forest lair, 
She found it on her way, and full of rage, 
Tore it and stained it with her bloody jaws: 
But Thisbe, fortunate, escaped unseen. 

Now Pyramus had not gone out as soon 
As Thisbe to the tryst; and, when he saw 
The certain traces of that savage beast, 
Imprinted in the yielding dust, his face 
Grew white with fear: but when he found the veil 
Covered with blood, he cried; "Alas, one night 
Has caused the ruin of two lovers! Thou 



149 



Pyramus and Thisbe 



Wert most deserving of completed days. 
But as for me, my heart is guilty! I 
Destroyed thee! my love! I bade thee come 
Out in the black night to a lonely haunt, 
And failed to go before. Oh! whatso' lurks 
Beneath this rock, though ravenous lion, tear 
My guilty flesh, and with thy cruel jaws 
Devour my curs ed entrails! What? Not so; 
It is a craven's part to wish for death!" 

So he stopped briefly; and took up the veil; 
Went straightway to the shadow of the tree; 
And as his tears bedewed the well-known veil. 
He kissed it oft and sighing said, "Kisses 
And tears are thine, receive my blood as well." 

And he imbrued the steel, girt at his side, 
Deep in his bowels; and plucked it from the wound, 
A-faint with death. As he fell back to earth 
His spurting blood shot upward in the air: 

150 



Pyramus and Thisbe 



So, when decay has rift a leaden pipe 
A hissing jet of water spurts on high. — 
By that dark tide the berries on the tree 
Assumed a deeper tint, for as the roots 
Soaked up the blood the pendant mulberries 
Were dyed a purple tint. 

Thisbe returned. 
Though trembling still with fright, for she supposed 
Her lover must await her at the tree. 
And she should haste before he feared for her. 
Longing to tell him of her great escape 
She sadly looked for him with faithful eyes; 
But when she saw the spot and the changed tree. 
She doubted could they be the same, for so 
The color of the hanging fruit deceived. 

Whilst doubt dismayed her, on the ground she saw 
The wounded body covered with its blood;— 
She started backward, and her face grew pale 

151 



Pyramus and Thisbe 



And ashen; and she shuddered like the sea, 

Which trembles when its face is lightly skimmed 

By the chill breezes; — and she paused a space; — 

But when she knew it was the one she loved, 

She struck her tender breast and tore her hair. 

Then wreathing in her arms his loved form, 

She bathed the wound with tears, mingling her grief 

In his unquench ed blood; and as she kissed 

His death-cold features wailed; "Ah Pyramus, 

What cruel fate has taken thy life away? 

Pyramus! Pyramus! awake! awake! 

It is thy dearest Thisbe calls thee! Lift 

Thy drooping head! Alas," — At Thisbe's name 

He raised his eyes, though lan^,uorous in death, 

And darkness gathered o'er them as he gazed. 

Then she beheld her veil; and near it lay 
His ivory sheath— but not the trusty sword — 
And once again she wailed; "Thy own right hand, 
And thy great passion have destroyed thee! — 

152 



Pyramus and Thisbe 



And I? my hand shall ba as bold as thine — 
My love shall nerve me to the fatal deed — 
Thee I will follow to eternity — 
Though 1 be censured for the wretched cause, 
So surely I shall share thy wretched fate: — 
Alas whom death could me alone bereave, 
Thou shalt not from my love be reft by death! 
And, ye wretched parents, mine and his. 
Let our misfortunes and our pleadings melt 
Your hearts, that ye no more deny to those 
Whom constant love and lasting death unite — 
Entomb us in a single sepulchre. 

"And, thou tree of many-branching boughs, 
Spreading dark shadows o'er the corpse of one, 
Destined to cover twain, take thou our fate 
Upon thy head; mourn our untimely deaths; 
Let thy fruit darken for a memory, 
An emblem of our blood." No more she said; 
And having fixed the point below her breast, 



153 



Pyramiis and Thisbe 



She fell on the keen sword, still reeking with his blood. 

But though her death was out of Nature's law 
Her prayer was answered, for it moved the Gods 
And moved their parents. Now the Gods have changed 
The ripened fruit which darkens on the branch: 
And from the funeral pile their parents sealed 
Their gathered ashes in a single urn. 



154 



E\\i 3am Agfa unh MpxUv 



The Golden Age was first. Then rectitude, 
Spontaneous in the heart, prevailed, and faith. 
Avengers were not seen, for laws, unframed, 
Were all unknown and needless. Punishment 
And fears of penalties existed not. 
No harsh decrees were fixed on lasting brass: 
No suppliant multitude the countenance 
Of Justice feared, averting, for they dwelt 
Without a judge in peace. 

Descended not 
The steeps, shorn from its hight, the lofty pine 

155 



The Four Ages and Jupiter 



To cleave the trackless waves of alien shores; 
Njr distant realms v^ere known to wandering men. 
Tae towns were not entrenched for cruel war, 
Nor did th3 brazen trumpet, curved or straight. 
With glittering sword and helmet, flash the sun. 
Unknown to martial pomp, secure in peace, 
A happy multitude enjoyed repose. 

Then, of her own accord the earth produced 
A store of every fruit. The harrow touched 
Her not, nor did the plowshare wound 
Her iields. And man, content with given food 
And none compelling, gathered arbute fruits, 
And wild strawberries on the mountain sides. 
And ripe blackberries clinging to the bush. 
And cornels, and sv\^eet acorns on the ground, 
Down-fallen from the spreading tree of Jove. 

Eternal Spring! soft-breathing zephyrs soothed 
And warmly cherished badi and blooms, produced 

156 



The Silver Age 



Without a seed. The valleys, though unplowed, 
Gave many fruits; the fields, though not renewed, 
White, glistened with t'leir heavy ears of corn. 
Rivers flowed milk and nectar, and the bees 
Distilled their golden store in ilex grean. 

When Saturn groped in gloomy Tartarus, 
And all-consulting Jove controlled the world, 
The Silver Age, though not as rich as gold, 
Superior to burnished bronze, succeeded. 

Jove first reduced to years the Primal Spring, 
By him divided into seasons four; 
Unequal autumn, summer, winter, spring. — 
Then glowed with tawney heat the parched air. 
Or pendant icicles in winter froze; 
And man, for shelter, crouched in gloomy caves, 
In bushes hid, or hovels of peeled bark. — 
"- han were the cereals planted in long rows, 
Aid groaning bullocks pressed against the yoke. 

157 



The Four Ages and Jupiter 



And in the Third Age, in the Age of Bronze, 
The cruel multitude inclined to arms, 
But not to impious crimes. 

And, last of all, 
The Iron Age is hard, and wickedness 
Of most malignant vein has broken forth. — 
Now modesty and faith and truth take flight, 
And in their stead deceits, and snares, and frauds, 
And violence, and wicked love of gain, succeed. — 

The sailor gave his canvas to the winds 
The winds unknown; and keels that long had stood 
On lofty mountains sailed through distant waves. 
Surveyors, anxious, marked with metes and bounds 
The lands, created free as light and air. 
Nor need the rich ground furnish only crops 
And give due nourishment, by right required: 
They penetrated to the bowels of earth. 



158 



The troll Ag€ 

To dig up wealth, bad cause of all our ills; 

Rich ores which long ago the earth had hid, 

And deep removed to gloomy Stygian caves. 

Then quickly noxious iron and harmful gold 

Were brought to light; and War, which fights with 

each, 
Came forth and shook with sanguinary grip 
His clashing arms. 

Rapacity succeeds: 
And even the guest is fearful of his host; 
The father-in-law distrusts his son-in-law. 
And brothers seldom can abide in peace. 
The husband threatens to destroy his wife. 
And she her husband: horrid step-dames mix 
The deadly henbane: eager sons inquire 
Their fathers' ages: Piety is dead: 
And, last of all the Deities to leave, 
Astrsea hastens from the blood-stained earth. 



159 



THE GIANTS and JUPITER 



And lest etherial hights should long remain 
Less troubled than the earth, to realms of Heaven 
Aspired the race of Giants; and they piled 
Mountain on mountain to the lofty stars. 
But Jove, omnipotent, shot thunderbolts 
Through Mount Olympus; and he shook the base 
Of Ossa huge, which fell from Pelion's peak. 

And while the dreadful Giants lay o'erwhelmed 
In their tremendous bulk, (so fame reports) 
The Earth was covered with the copious blood 
Of her gigantic sons: and thus, replete 
With moisture she infused the reeking gore 
With life renewed. And, lest a monument 
Of that ferocious stock should thus remain, 
She made that offspring in the shape of man. — 



160 



Lycaon and Jupiter 



But this new race alike despised the Gods, 
And by the greed of savage slaughter proved 
Their sanguinary birth. 



L YCA ON and JUPITER 



When from his throne, 
Supreme, Saturnian Jove beheld their deeds, 
He deeply groined. But after he recalled 
The loathesome feast Lycaon had prepared, 
A recent deed not common to I'eport, 
His mind conceived huge anger — v^orthy Jove- 
And he convened a council. — No delay 
Detained the chosen Goda. 

When skies are clear, 
A path is well-defined on high, which men, 
Because so white, have named The Milky Way. 

161 



Lycaon and Jupiter 



It is a passage for the Deities, 

And leads to mansions of the Thunder-God, 

To Jove's imperial home. On right and left 

Its portaled courts with noble Gods are thronged — 

But far from there the lesser kind abide — 

In front the Deities renowned of Heaven 

Have fixed their homes. Oh, let my song be bold, 

And I'll not fear to designate that place, 

'Palatial Residence of Highest Heaven!' 

When, therefore, in marmoreal halls the Gods 
Were seated, Jove, upon his glorious throne. 
Sat leaning on his ivory scepter. Thrice, 
And four times more he shook his awful hair. 
With which he moved the earth, the seas and stars. 
And thus, indignantly, began to speak; 

"The time when serpent -footed Giants strove 
To fix their hundred arms on captive Heaven, 
Not more than this event could cause alarm 

162 



Lycaon and Jupiter 



For my dominion of the universe. 
Although it was a savage enemy, 
Yet warred we with a single race, derived 
Of one. Now must I utterly destroy 
This mortal race, wherever Nereus roars 
Around the world. Yea, by the Infernal Stream 
That glides beneath the world in gloomy groves, 
I swear it. Every method has been tried. 
The knife must cut the immedicable wound 
Lest maladies infect the healthy parts. 

"Beneath my sway are demi-gods and fauns, 
Nymphs, rustic deities, sylvans of the hills, 
Satyrs; — all these, unworthy Heaven's delights. 
We should at least permit to dwell on earth, 
Which we to them bequeathed. What think ye, Gods, 
Is safety theirs, when I, your sovereign lord. 
Controller of the lightnings, may be snared 
By fierce Lycaon?" 



163 



Lycaon and Jupiter 



Ardent in their wrath, 
The astonished Gods demand revenge overtake 
That miscreant; he v/ho dared commit such crimes. 
'Twas even thus when raged that impious band 
To blot the Roman name in sacred blood 
Of Cjesar, sudden, apprehensive fears 
Of ruin absolute astonished man, 
And all the world convulsed. Nor is the love 
Thy people bear to thee, Augustus, less 
Than these displayed to Jupiter, whose voice 
And gesture all the murmuring host restrained. 
And, as the indignant clamor ceased, suppressed 
By regnant majesty, Jove once again 
Broke the deep silence v/ith imperial words; 

"Dismiss your rage; he paid the penalty: 
However, all the crime and punishment 
Now learn from me: — The infamous report 
Of this unholy age had reached my ears; 
And, wishing it were false, I sloped my course 



164 



Lycaon Mocks jupitef 



^ 



From high Olympus Mount; and as a God, 
Disguised in human form I roamed the world. 
It would delay us to recount the crimes, 
Unnumbered, for reports were less than truth. 

"I crossed o'er Maenalus, where fearful dens 
Abound, and o'er Lycssus, wintry slopes 
Of pine-tree groves, and other mountain steeps; 
And as the twilight warned the night's approach, 
I stopped in that Arcadian tyrant's realm. 
And entered his inhospitable homes. 
And when I showed them that a God had come 
The lowly people all began to pray. 
Bat this Lycaon mocked their pious vows, 
And scoffing said; A fair experiment 
Will prove the truth if this be God or man." 
And he prepared to slay me in the night. 
And end my slumbers in the sleep of death. 
So made he merry with his impious proof. 



165 



Lycaon and Jupiter 



"But, not content with this, he cut the throat 
Of a poor hostage, from Molossa sent, 
And partly softened his still quivering limbs 
In boiling water, partly roasted them 
On fires that burned beneath. And when this flesh 
Was served to me on tables, I destroyed 
His palace and his worthless Household Gods 
With thunderbolts avenging. 

"Terror-struck, 
He took to flight, and on the silent plains 
Is howling in his vain attempts to speak. 
He raves and rages, and his greedy jaws. 
Desiring their accustomed slaughter, turn 
Against the cattle, eager for their blood. — 
His vesture separates in shaggy hair; 
His arms are changed to legs; and as a wolf 
He keeps the vestige of his ancient form. — 
He has the same grey locks, the same hard face. 
The same bright eyes, the same ferocious look. — 

166 



Lycaon and Jupiter 



"Thus fell one house; but not one house, alone 
Deserves to perish; far as earth extends 
The frightful Furies reign; all men conspire 
To evil; let them, therefore, feel the sting 
Of dreadful penalties, so justly earned. 
For such hath my unchanging will ordained." 



167 



Sfitraliott auJi t\}t Sfluge 



With exclamations, some approve the words 
Of Jove, and join him in his mighty rage, 
While others yield assent. But all must grieve 
Complete destruction of the human race, 
And question future of the earth, deprived 
Of mortals. — "Who will offer frankincense 
On smoking altars? Wilt thou suffer earth 
To be devoured by hungry beasts of prey? 
Such idle questions of the state of man 
The King of Gods forbids, but gracious grants 

169 



Deucalion and the Deluge 



To people earth with race, miraculous, 
Not like the first. 

And now dread thunder-bolts. 
And dire destruction over every land, 
Would Jove wide-scatter, but he feared the flames, 
Unnumbered, sacred ether might ignite, 
And burn the unmeasured axle of the world. 
For, he remembers in the scroll of fate. 
There is a time appointed when the sea 
And earth and Heavens will burn in triple fires, 
Whelming in total ruin the wide universe. 
Such weapons, by the skill of Cyclops forged. 
For different punishment, him pleasing most, 
Are laid aside. 

He willed to overwhelm 
That mortal race beneath the waves and storms 
From universal skies. And instantly 
He shut the Northwind in the Cave of Storms, 

170 



The SotitJiwind 



And every other wind that might dispel 

The gathering clouds. He bade the Southwind blow: — 

The Southwind flies abroad with dripping wings, 
Concealing in the gloom his awful face: 
The waves descend ad own his stormful hair 
And hoary beard; clouds gather 'round his brows, 
And from his breast and huge wings drop the dews: 
His great hands press the overhanging clouds; 
Loudly the thunders roll; the torrents pour. 
Iris, The Rainbow, messenger of Juno, 
In many colored raiment clothed, took up 
Refreshing dews to renovate the clouds. 

The standing grain is beaten to the ground; 
The rustic's wreaths are scattered in the mire; 
And he bewails the long year's fruitless toil. — 
The wrath of Jove was not content with powers 
That emanate from Heaven; he brought to aid 
His azure brother, lord of flowing waves, 

171 



Deucalion and the Deluge 



Who called upon the Rivers and the Streams. 
And when they entered his impearled abode, 
Neptune, their ancient ruler, thus began; 

**Harken, Streams and Rivers! Pour ye forth 
In rage of power; open up your fountains 
And overwhelm all those that stop your way; 
Pour forth your boundless floods. ' ' Thus he commands ; 
And none dissenting, all the River-Gods 
Return, and opening up their fountains roll, 
Tumultuous, to the deep unfruitful sea. 

And Neptune with his trident smote the Earth, 
Which, trembling with unwonted throes, heaved up 
The sources of her secret streams; and through 
Her open plains the rapid rivers rushed 
Resistless, onward bearing the waving grain. 
The budding groves, the houses, sheep and men. 
Holy temples, and all their sacred urns. 
The mansions that remained, resisting vast 

172 



The Deep Waters 



And total ruin, deepening waves concealed, 

And tossed their tottering turrets in the flood 

And whirling deeps. And now, one vast expanse, 

The land and sea were mingling in the waste 

Of endless waves — a sea without a shore. — 

A desperate man fled to the nearest hill; 

Another sitting in his curv ed boat, 

Plied the long oar where he had often plowed — 

He sailed above his grain, or glided o'er 

His hidden home, — and there another hooked 

A fish that sported in a leafy elm: 

And here an anchor dropped in verdant fields. 

And there the crooked keels pushed through the vines; 

And where the gracile goat enjoyed the green. 

Unsightly seals reposed. 

Beneath the waves 
Are wondering Nereids, viewing cities, groves 
And houses. Dolphins darting mid the trees, 
Meshed in the twisted branches, beat against "^"^ 



173 



Deucalion and the Deluge 



The shaken oak trees. There the timid sheep 

Swim with the frightened wolf; the surging waves 

Bear tigers and lions; svaileth naught 

His lightning-shock the wild boar, nor avails 

The deer's fleet-footed speed. The wandering bird, 

Seeking umbrageous groves and hidden vales, 

With wearied pinion droops into the sea. 

The waves increasing surge above the hills. 

And rising waters dash on mountain tops. 

Myriads by the waves are swept away; 

And those the waters spare are overcome 

With fasting — famished for the lack of food. 

A fruitful land and fair, but now beneath 
A wilderness of rising waves submerged, 
'Twixt Acte and Aonia, Phocis lies, — 
Where, through the clouds, Parnassus' summits twain 
Point ever to the stars, unmeasured hight, 

Save which the rolling billows covered all. 



174 



Jupiter Abates the Deluge 



There, in a small and fragile boat, arrived 

Deucalion and the consort of his couch. 

Prepared to worship the Corycian Nymphs, 

The mountain deities, and Themis, she. 

Who ancient days revealed in oracles 

The voice of fate. As he no other lived 

So good and just; as she no other feared the Gods. 

When Jupiter beheld the globe 
Given to ruin, and swept with wasting waves; 
When he beheld one man of thousands left, 
One helpless woman of the many left. 
Both innocent and worshipping the Gods, 
He scattered all the clouds; he blew away 
The rainstorm by the cold Northwind. Once more 
The earth appeared to Heaven and the skies 
Appeared to earth. The fury of the waves 
Abated, for the Ocean-ruler laid 
His trident down, and pacified the deeps, 
And called on azure Triton. 

175 



Diiicalioit and the Dehige-^-Triton 

- Triton arose 
Above the deep profound, and glistering stood 
Upon the swirling seas; his shoulders veiled 
In purple. He commanded Triton blow. 
Blow in his sounding shell, the wandering streams 
And rivers to recall with signal known. — 
A hollow-wreath ed trumpet, tapering wide, 
And slender stemmed, then Triton took amain, 
And wound that pearly shell at midmost sea. 
Betwixt the rising and the setting suns 
The wildered notes resounded, shore to shore; 
And, as it touched his lips, wet with the brine 
Beneath his dripping beard, sounded retreat :- 
And all the waters of the land and sea 
Obeyed. Their fountains ceased to flow; their waves 
Subsided, and the hidden hills uprose; 
Emerged the shores of ocean; channels filled 
With flowing streams; the soil appeared; the land 
Increased its surface as the waves decreased: 
And after length of days the trees put forth,— 

176 



Deucalion^ s Complaint 



With ooze on bending boughs, — their naked tops. 

And all the wasted globe was now restored; 
But as he viewed the vast and silent plains 
Deucalion wept, and thus to Pyrrha spake; 
"My sister- wife, woman sole-surviving! 
My kindred in descent and origin. 
Dearest companion of my marriage-bed, 
Doubly endeared by deepening dangers! Here, 
Of all the dawn and eve, behold of earth 
Are we alone remaining, for the deeps 
Devoured the rest. Alas, why not the tide 
Us overwhelm? The dark, forbidding clouds 
Affright us. Oh what solitude, wert thou 
Torn from my side,^ — by fate bereft of me! 
Child of compassion! in the silent, wide, 
And lonely wilderness what fears assail! — 
And who would comfort thy desponding grief? 
Should waves unfathomed gulf thee in abyss, 
rd plunge their depths, and night would close my eyes, 

177 



Deucalion and the Delude 



Oh, would that as Prometheus I might breathe 
The flame of spirit-life in earth's dead mould, 
Creating man anew. Alas, the Gods 
Decreed; and only we are living!" Thus 
Deucalion's plaint to Pyrrha; and they wept. 

Now they v/ere fain to supplicate the Gods, 
And ask of sacred oracles the way; 
So hastened they to seek the mountain stream 
Which rolled a turbid flood in shallows knov/n. 
Thence, when their robes and brows were sprinkled o'e-r, 
They turned their footsteps to the Goddess* fane: 
Its pinnacles befouled with reeking moss, 
And its deserted altars lacking fires. 
But soon as they had reached the temple steps 
They fell upon the earth, inspired with awe, 
Deep, reverential, and kissed the stones, 
Saying, "If prayers avail to move the Gods, 
And if the wrath of high celestial powers 



178 



They Beseech Themis 



Be mutable, declare, Themis! whence 
And what the power may raise humanity? 
gentle Goddess, help us or we die!" 

Moved by their supplications, thus replied 
The Goddess, "Go from my temple; veil your heads; 
Ungird your garments and cast back of you 
The bones of your great mother." Doubtful, a while 
rhey stood amazed. And Pyrrha, first to speak, 
Refused the mandate, as her trembling lips 
Implored the Goddess, for she greatly feared 
To violate the sacred bones and vex 
Her mother's shade. But deeply pondered they 
Those words concealing dark obscurities — 
Repeating often. 

Thus Deucalion, 
The son of great Prometheus, spake, at last 
To Pyrrha, (Epimetheus daughter) words 
Of soothing import; "Oracles are just, 

179 



Deucalion and the Deluge 



And urge not evil deeds; or naught avails 
The skill of thought.— Our mother is the Earth, 
And I may judge the rocks of earth her bones, 
Which we are told to cast behind our backs." 

And although she of Titan race was moved 
By this interpretation, doubts involved 
Her hopes in darkening maze; Deucalion, too, 
Doubted the purpose of the oracle; 
But what could harm them if they should obey? 
Descending from the temple steps, they veiled 
Their heads and loosed their robes and threw some 

stones 
Behind them. It surpasses all belief, 
But the receding ages witness it; 
The rigid stones assumed a pliant form; — 
Enlarging, as their brittle nature changed 
To milder substance, till the shapes of men 
Appeared, imperfect, faintly outlined first, 
As marble statues chiseled in the rough. 

180 



The Creation of the Present Race of Men 

Th3 softer parts were changed to softer flesh ; 

The hard and brittle substance into bones; 

The veins retained their anciant name. And now 
The Gods, supreme, ordained that every stone 
Deucalion cast should take the form of man, 
And those by Pyrrha thrown should woman's form 
Assume: so, we are hardy to endure, 
And prove by deeds from whence and what we sprung, 



181 



f ijtlj0n nnh Kpaiia 



Now in the mire of Earth spontaneous grew 
Innumerous animals of every kind, 
When all the moisture of the swampy fens 
Fermented in the sun: and fruitful seeds 
In soils nutritious grew to shapes ordained. — 
Thus, when the seven-streamed Nile, from oozey marsh 
Returneth duly to his ancient bed, 
The sun's etherial rays impregn the slime. 
That, haply, as the peasants turn the soil 
They find strange animals unknown before: 

183 



Python and Apollo 



Some in the moment of their birth, and some 
Deprived of limbs, imperfect; — often part 
Alive and part of slime inanimate 
Behold they in one body. Heat combined 
With moisture so conceives, and life results 
From these two elements. For though the flames 
May be the foes of moisture, every thing 
That lives begins in vapour; and it seems 
Discordant concord is the means of life. 

When Earth, spread over with diluvian slime. 
Felt heat life-giving from the glowing sun, 
Unnumbered species to the light she gave. 
And gave to being many an ancient form. 
Or monster, new-created. Unwilling, she 
Created thee, enormous Python. Thou, 
Abnormal serpent, stretched athwart extent 
Of mountains vast, with mortal terror filled 
The growing race of new-created man. 
Apollo, God of the bow (a weapon used till then 

184 



Origin of Pythian Gaines 



Only to hunt the deer and fleet roe-bucks) 
Destroyed that monster with his glittering darts; 
Emptied, almost, his quiver of its darts, 
While venom oozed forth from the livid wounds. 

Lest in a dark oblivion, time should hide 
The fame of that achievement, sacred sports 
Apollo instituted; from the Python's name 
Known as **The Pythian Games," in which the youth 
Who proved victorious in the chariot race. 
Running or boxing, with an honored wreath 
Of beechen leaves was crowned. The laurel then 
Was not created, and the bright Apollo, 
Phoebus, the beautiful of golden hair. 
Was fain to wreathe his brows with various leaves. 



185 



Olaltstfl attft iupitfr 



Now after Phaeton had suffered death 
For the vast ruin wrought by scorching flames, 
All the great walls of Heaven's circumference, 
Unmeasured, views the Father of the Gods, 
With searching care, that none impaired by heat 
May fall in ruins. Well assured they stand 
In self-sustaining strength, his view, at last, 
On all the mundane works of man is turned; — 
His loving gaze long resting on his own 
Arcadia. And he starts the streams and springs 

187 



Calls to and Jupiter 



That long have feared to flow; paints the wide earth 
With verdant fields; covers the trees with leaves, 
And clothes the injured forests in their green. 

While wandering o'er the world, he stopped 
amazed, 
When he beheld the lovely Nymph, Calisto, 
And fires of love were kindled in his breast. 

Calisto was not clothed in sumptuous robes. 
Nor did she deck her hair in artful coils; 
But with a buckle she would gird her robe, 
And bind her long hair with a fillet white. 
She bore a slender javelin in her hand, 
Or held the curving bow; and thus in arms 
As chaste Diana, none of Maenalus 
Were loved by that fair Goddess more than she. 

But everything must change. When bright the 
sun, 



188 



Jupiter Disguised as Diana 



Rolled down the sky, beyond his middle course. 
She pierced a secret thicket, known to her, 
And having slipped the quiver from her arm, 
She loosed the bended bow, and softly down 
Upon the velvet turf reclining, pressed 
Her white neck on the quiver while she slept. 

When Jupiter beheld her, negligent 
And beautiful, he argued thus, "How can 
My consort, Juno, learn of this? And, yet. 
If chance should give her knowlege, what care I? 
Her scolding tongue shall never cause me harm." 

This said, the God transformed himself, and took 
Diana's form — assumed Diana's dress — 
And imitating her awoke the maid. 
And spoke in gentle tones, "What mountain slope, 

virgin of my train, hath been thy chase?" 
Which, having heard, Calisto 'rose and said, 
"Hail, Goddess! greater than celestial Jove! 

1 would declare it though he heard the words." 

189 



Calisto and Jupiter 



Jove heard and smiled, well pleased to be preferred 
Above himself, and kissed her many times, 
And strained her in his eager arms, while she 
Began to tell the fortunes of her hunt. — 
But when his ardent love was known to her, 
She struggled to escape from his embrace: 
Ah, how could she, a tender maid, resist 
Almighty Jove? — Goddess of the chaste! 
If thou hadst only witnessed her thy heart 
Had shown more pity! — 

Jupiter on wings, 
Transcendent, sought his glorious hights; 
But she, in haste departing from that grove. 
Almost forgot her quiver and her bow. 

Behold, Diana with her virgin train, 
When hunting on the slopes of Mssnalus, 
Amidst the pleasures of exciting sport. 



190 



Diana Discovers Calisto 



Espied the Nymph and called her, who, afraid 
That Jove apparelled in disguise deceived. 
Drew backward for a moment, till appeared 
To her the lovely Nymphs that followed: thus. 
Assured deceit was none, she ventured near. 

Alas, how difficult to hide disgrace! 
She could not raise her vision from the ground, 
Nor, as the leader of the hunting Nymphs 
As was her wont, walk by the Goddess' side. 
Her silence and her blushes were the signs 
Of injured honor. Ah, Diana, thou. 
If thou wert not a virgin, wouldst perceive, 
Too well, her troubled state, for all the Nymphs 
That followed thee observed her altered mien. 

The Moon's bent horns were rising from their ninth 
Sojourn, when, fainting from Apollo's flames. 
The Goddess of the Chase beheld a cool 



191 



Calisto and Jupiter 



Umbrageous grove, from which a murmuring stream 

Ran babbling gently over golden sands. 

When she approved the spot, lightly she struck 

Her foot against the ripples of the stream, 

And praising it began; "Far from the gaze 

Of all the curious we may bathe our limbs, 

And sport in this clear water." Quickly they 

Undid their garments, — but Calisto hid 

Behind the others, till they knew her state. — 

Diana in a rage exclaimed. "Away! 

Thou must not desecrate our sacred springs!" 

And she was driven thence. 

Ere this transpired, 
Observed the consort of the Thunder-God 
Her altered mien; but she for ripening time 
Withheld severe resentment. Now delay 
Was needless for distracted Juno heard 
Calisto of the God of Heaven had borne 



192 



Juno Enraged Against Calisto 



A boy called Areas. Full of jealous rage, 
Her eyes and thoughts enkindled as she cried; 

"And only this was wanting to complete 
Thy wickedness, that thou shouldst bear a son. 
And flaunt abroad the infamy of Jove! 
Unpunished thou shalt not escape, for I 
Will spoil the beauty that has made thee proud, 
And dazzled Jupiter with wanton art." 

So saying, by her forehead's tresses seized 
The Goddess on her rival, and with rough hand threw 
Face-downward to the ground. Pleading she raised 
Her suppliant arms and begged for mercy. — While 
She pled black hair spread over her white limbs; 
Her hands were lengthened into feet, and clav/s 
Long-curving tipped them; snarling jaws deformed 
The mouth that Jove had kissed. And lest her prayers 
And piteous words might move some listening God, 
And give remembrance, speech was so denied, 

193 



Calls to and Jupiter 



That only from her throat came angry growls, 
Now uttered hoarse and threatening. 

Still remains 
Her understanding, though her body, thus 
Transformed, makes her appear a savage bear. — 
Her sorrows are expressed in many a groan, 
Repeated as she lifts her hands — if we 
May call them so — repeated as she lifts 
Them towards the stars and skies, ungrateful Jove 
Regarding; but her voice accuses not. 

Afraid to rest in unfrequented woods. 
She wandered in the fields that once were hers, 
Around her well-known dwelling. Over crags, 
In terror, she was driven by the cries 
Of hounds; and many a time she fled in fear, 
A huntress from the hunters, or she hid 
From savage animals; forgetful, oft, 
Her own condition. Changed into a bear, 

194 



Areas Attacks His Mother, Catisto 

She fled aflfrighted from the he-bears, found 
Upon the mountains; and she feared and fled 
The wolves, — although her father was a wolf. 

When thrice five birthdays rounded out the youth 
Of Areas, offspring of Lycaon's child, 
He hunted in the forest of his choice; 
Where, hanging with his platted nets the trees 
Of Erymanthian forest, he espied 
His transformed mother, — but he knew her not; 
No one had told him of his parentage. 

Knowing her child, she stood with levelled gaze, 
Amazed and mute as he began approach; 
But Areas, frightened at the sight drew back 
To pierce his mother's breast with wounding spear. 
Ere she could touch him, lo, the God of Heaven 
Averted, and removed them from that crime. 
He, in a mighty wind, through vacant space, 
Upbore them to the dome of starry heaven; 

195 



Calls to and Juplta' 



And fixed them, Constellations, bright amid 
The starry host. 

Juno on high beheld 
Calisto crowned with glory — great with rage 
Her bosom heaved. She hastened o'er the sea, 
To hoary Tethys and to old Oceanus, 
Whom all the Gods revere, and thus to them 
In answer to their words she made address; 

"And is it wondered that the Qaeen of Gods 
Comes hither from etherial abodes? 
My rival sits upon the Throne of Heaven: 
Yea, when the wing of Night has darkened earth. 
Let my fair word be deemed of no repute, 
If you behold not in the hight of Heaven 
Those new made stars, now honored to my shame, 
Conspicuous: fixed in the highest dome of space 
That circles the utmost axis of the world. 



196 



Juno' s Jealousy 

**Who, then, should hesitate to put affront 
On Juno? matchless Goddess! each offense 
Redounds in benefit! Who dreads her rage? 
boundless powers! unimagined deeds! 
My enemy assumes a Goddess' form 
When my decree deprives her human shape; — 
And thus the guilty rue their chastisement! 

"Now let high Jove to human shape transform 
This hideous beast, as once before he changed 
His lo from a heifer. — Let him now 
Divorce his Juno and consort with her, 
And lead Calisto to his couch, and take 
That wolf, Lycaon, for a father-in-law! 

"Oh, if an injury to me, your child, 
May move your pity, drive the Seven Stars 
From waters crystalline and azure-tint, 
And your domain debar from those that shine 



197 



Calls to and Jupiter 



In Heaven, rewarded for Jove's wickedness. 
Bathe not a concubine in \;vaters pure." — 
The Gods of Ocean granted her request. 



198 



OJurnms nnh ^t|Opb«a 



High in her graceful chariot through the air, 
Translucent, wends the Goddess, glorious child 
Of Saturn, with her peacocks, many-hued: 
Her peacocks, by the death of Argus limned. 
So gay were made when black as midnight turned 
Thy wings, chattering raven! white of yore. 
For, long ago the ravens were not black — 
Their plumage then was white as any dove^ — 
White-feathered, snow-white as the geese that guard 
With watchful cries the Capitol: as white 



199 



Coronis and Phoebus 



As swans that haunt the streams. Disgrace reversed 
The raven's hue from white to black, because 
Offence was given by his chattering tongue. 

glorious Phoebus, dutiful to thee, 
Coronis of Larissa, fairest maid 
Of all ^monia, was a grateful charm, 
A joy to thee whilst faithful to thy love, — 
Whilst none defamed her chastity. But v/hen 
The Raven, bird of Phcebus, learned the Nymph 
Had been unfaithful, mischief-bent, that bird. 
Spreading his white wings, hastened to impart 
The sad news to his master. After him 
The prattling Crow followed with flapping wings, 
Eager to learn what caused the Raven's haste. 

Concealing nothing, with his busy tongue, 
The Raven gave the scandal to that bird: 
And unto him the prattling Crow replied; 



200 



The Crow Talks About Aglauros 

"A fruitless errand has befooled thy wits! 
Take timely warning of my fateful cries: 
Consider what I was and what I am: 
Was justice done? 'Twas my fidelity 
That caused my downfall. For, it came to pass, 
Within a basket, fashioned of small twigs, 
Minerva had enclosed that spawn; begot 
Without a mother, Ericthonius; 
Which to the wardship of three virgins, born 
Of double-natured Cecrops, she consigned. 
With this injunction, "Look ye not therein. 
Nor learn the secret." — 

"I beheld their deeds 
While hidden in the leaves of a great tree — 
Tvvo of the sisters, Herse and Pandrosos, 
Observed ths charge, but scoffing at their fears. 
The third, Aglauros, with her nimble hands 
Untied the knotted cords, and there disclosed 
That child of serpent limbs. All this I told 

201 



Coronis and Phoebus 



Minerva; but, in turn, she took away 
Her long protection, and degraded me 
Beneath the boding Owl. — My punishment 
Should warn the birds how many dangers they 
Incur from chattering: tongues. 

"Not my desire 
Impelled me to report to her, nor did 
I crave protection; which, if thou wilt ask 
Minerva, though enraged, she must confirm. 
And when is told to thee what lately fame 
Established, thou wilt not despise the Crow. — 

"Begot by Coronseus, who was lord 
Of all the land of Phocis, I was once 
A royal virgin, sought by suitors rich 
And powerful. But beauty proved the cause 
Of my misfortune; for, it came to pass, 
As I was slowly walking on the sands 
That skirt the marge of ocean, where was oft 

202 



The Crow Becomes Minerva' s Bird 

My wont to roam, the God of Ocean gazed 
Impassioned, and with honied words implored 
My love — but finding that 1 paid no heed, 
And all his words despised, he fumed with rage 
And followed me. 

"1 fled from that sea-shore 
To fields of shifting sands, that all my steps 
Delayed: and in despair upon the Gods 
And all mankind I called for aid. but I 
Was quite alone and helpless. Presently 
The chaste Minerva, me, a virgin, heard 
And me assistance gave: for, as my arms 
Implored the Heavens, downy feathers grew 
From out the flesh; and as I tried to cast 
My mantle from my shoulders, wings appeared, 
Upon my tender sides; and as I strove 
To beat my naked bosom with my hands, 
Nor hands remained nor naked breast to beat. 



203 



Coronis and Phoebus 



**I ran, and as I sped the sands no more 
Delayed me; I was soaring from the ground; 
And, as I winged the air, Minerva chose 
Me for a life-companion; but, alas. 
Although my life was blameless, fate or chance, 
Deprived me of Minerva's loving aid; 
For soon Nictimene succeeded me 

To her protection and deserved esteem. — 
It happened in this way, — Nictimen e 
Committed the most wicked crimes, for which 

Minerva changed her to the bird of night — 

And ever since has claimed her for her own 

Instead of me, and this despite the deed 

For which she shuns the glorious light of day; 

And conscious of her crime conceals her shame 

In the dark night — Minerva's Owl now called. 

All the glad birds of day, indignant, shun, 

And chase her from the skies." 



204 



The Raven Talks to Phoebus About Coronis 

But now replied 
The Raven to the Crow, that talked so much, 
"A mischief fall upon thy prating head 
For this detention of my flight. Thy words 
And warnings I despise. "With which retort 
He winged upon his journey, swiftly thence. 
In haste, despite the warning, to inform 
His patron, Phoebus, how he saw the fair 
Coronis with a lad of Thessaly. 

And when Apollo, Phoebus, heard the tale 
The busy Raven made such haste to tell. 
He dropped his plectrum and his laurel wreath, 
And his bright countenance went white with rage. 
He seized his trusted arms, and having bant 
His certain bow, pierced with a deadly shaft 
That bosom which so often he had pressed 
Against his own. 

Coronis moaned in pain, — 
205 



Coronis and Phoebus 



And as she drew the keen shaft from the wound, 
Her snow-white limbs were bathed in purple blood 
And thus she wailed, "Ah, Phoebus! punishment 
Is justly mine! but wherefcfe didst thou not 
Await the hour of birth? for by my death 
An innocent is slain." This said, her soul 
Expired with her life-blood, and death congealed 
Her drooping form. 

Sadly the love-lorn God 
Repents his jealous deed; regrets too late 
His ready credence to the Raven's tale. 
Mourning his thoughtless deed, blaming himself, 
He vents his rage upon the talking bird; 
He hates his bow, the string, his own right hand. 
The fateful arrow. As a last resource, 
Thus to o'ercome her cruel destiny, 
He strove to cherish her belov ed form. 
For vain were all nis medicinal arts. 



206 



The Grief of Phoebus 



But when he saw upraised the funeral pyre, 
Funereal and sad, where wreathed in flames 
Her body should be burnt, sighs deeply fetched 
He uttered from the sorrows of his heart, 
With tearless orbs, for no celestial face 
May tide of woe bedew. So grieves the poor dam. 
When swinging from his right the flashing ax, 
The butcher with a sounding blow divides 
The hollow temples of her sucking calf. 

Yet, after Phoebus poured the fragrant myrrh. 
Sweet perfumes on her breast, that now once more 
Against his own he pressed, and after all 
The prematurely hastened rites were done, 
He would not suffer the offspring of his loins 
To mingle with her ashes, but he plucked 
From out the flames, forth from his mother's thighs 
His child, unborn, and carried to the cave 
Of double-natured Chiron. 



207 



CoYonis and Phoebus 



Then to him 
He called the silly raven, high in hopes 
Of large requital due for all his words, 
But, angry with his meddling ways, the God 
Turned the white feathers of that bird to black; 
And then forbade forever more to perch 
Among the favored birds whose plumes are white. 



208 



(irgnif anb Afamlapiua 



Chiron, the Centaur, taught his pupil; proud 
That he was honored by that God-like charge. 
Behold, his lovely daughter, who was born. 
Beside the margin of a rapid stream. 
Came forward with her yellow hair, as gold 
Adown her shoulders. — She was known by name 
Ocyro e. The hidden things that Fate 
Conceals, she had the power to tell; for not 
Content was she to learn her father's arts, 
But rather pondered on mysterious things. 



209 



Ocyroe and Aesculapuis 



So, when the God of Frenzy warmed her breast, 
Gazing on ^sculapius, the child 
Of Phoebus and Coronis, while her soul 
Was gifted, with prophetic voice she said; 

"0 thou who wilt bestow on all the world 
The blessed boon of health, increase in strength! 
To thee shall mortals often owe their lives: 
To thee is given the power to raise the dead. 
But when against the power of Deities 
Thou salt presume to dare thy mortal skill, 
The bolts of Jove will shatter thy great might. 
And health no more be thine from thence to grant. 
And from a God thou shalt return to dust, 
And once again from dust become a God; 
And thou shalt thus renew thy destiny. — 

"And thou, dear father Chiron, brought to birth 
With pledge of an immortal life, informed 
With ever-during strength, when biting flames 

210 



Ocyroe Transformed to a Mare 



Of torment from the baneful serpent's blood 
Are coursing in thy veins, thou shalt implore 
A welcome death; and thy immortal life 
The Gods shall suffer to the power of death. — 
And the three Destinies shall cut thy thread." 

She would continue these prophetic words 
But tears unbidden trickled down her face; 
And, as it seemed her sighs would break her heart, 
She thus bewailed; **The Fates constrain my speech 
And I can say no more; my power has gone. 
Alas, my art, although of little force 
And doubtful worth, has brought upon my head 
The wrath of Heaven. 

"Oh, wherefor-e did I know 
To cast the future? Now my human form 
Puts on another shape, and the long grass 
Affords me needed nourishment. I want 



211 



Ocyroe and Aesculapius 



To range the boundless plains, and have become, 
In image of my father's kind, a mare: 
But gaining this, why lose my human shape? 
My father's form is one of twain combined." 

And as she wailed the words became confused 
And scarcely understood; and soon her speech 
Was only as the whinny of a mare. 
Down to the meadow's green her arms were stretched; 
Her fingers joined together, and smooth hoofs, 
Made of five nails a single piece of horn. 
Her face and neck were lengthened, and her hair 
Swept downward as a tail; the scattered locks 
That clung around her neck were made a mane. 
Tossed over to the right. Her voice and shape 
Were altogether changed, and since that day 
The change has given her a different name. 

In vain her hero father, Chiron, prayed 
The glorious God, Apollo, her to aid. 



212 



Phoebus^ Apollo as a Shepherd 

He could not thwart the will of mighty Jove; 
And if the power were his, far from the spot. 
From thence afar, his footsteps trod the fields 
Of Elis and Messenia, far from thence. 



213 



TMttm nnh iierrurg 



Now while Apollo wandered on those plains, 
His shoulders covered with a shepherd's skin, 
His left hand holding his long shepherd staff. 
His right hand busied with the seven reeds 
Of seven sizes, brooding o'er the death 
Of beautiful Coronis, and his love. 
While mournful ditties on the reeds were tuned, - 
His kine, forgotten, strayed away to graze 
Over the plains of Pylos. Mercury 
Beheld them, unattended, and from thence 
Drove them away, and hid them in the forest. 

215 



Battiis and Mercury 



So deftly did he steal them, no one knew 
Or noticed, save an ancient forester. 
Well known to all the neighbor-folk, who called 
Him Battus. He was keeper of that wood. 
And that green pasture, where the blooded mares 
Of rich Nel e us grazed. 

As Mercury 
Distrusted him, he led him to one side; 
And said, "Good stranger, whosoe'er thou art, 
If any one should haply question thee, 
If thou hast seen these kine, deny it all; 
And for thy good will, ere the deed is done, 
I give as thy reward this handsome cow." 

Now when the gift was his, old Battus said, 
"Go hence, in safety, if it be thy will; 
And should my tongue betray thee, let that stone 
Make mention of the theft. ' ' And as he spake. 
He pointed to a stone. 

216 - 



Mercury Transforms Battus to a Stone 

The son of Jove 
Pretended to depart, but quickly changed 
His voice and features, and retraced his steps, 
And thus again bespake that ancient man; 
"Kind sir, if thou wouldst earn a fair reward, 
A heifer and a bull, if thou hast seen 
Some cattle pass, I pray thee give thy help. 
And tell me of the theft." So tha reward 
Was doubled; and the old man answered him, 
"Beyond those hills they be," and so they were 
'Beyond those hills.' 

And, laughing, Mercury said, 
* 'Thou treacherous man to me dost thou betray 
Myself? Dost thou bewray me to myself?" 
The God indignant turned his perjured breast 
Into a stone which even now is called 
"The Spy of Pylos," a disgraceful name, 
Derived from days of old, but undeserved. 



217 



Comments of the Press and Criticisms ot 
GODS AND HEROES" 

J, BROOKES MORE 



it 



Will be sent, charges paid, to any address, by 
Thrash-Lick Publishing Co., Fort Smith, Ark., on 
receipt of price, cloth $1.25; full leather $1.75 — or, 
may be purchased from your bookseller; 200 pages. — 



Frank W. Chandler, Professor of 

ENGLISH LITERATURE 

University of Cincinnati: — ■ 



I have read with great pleasure the poems of Mr. 
J. Brookes More contained in his volume entitled 
"Gods and Heroes'*. 

The legends of Orpheus and Eurydice, Daphne and 
Phoebus, Semele and Jupiter, Cadmus and the Dragon, 
and Narcissus and Actseon are given new life in these 
verses that are frequently reminiscent of Keats and 
everywhere smooth and felicitous. 

Mr. More displays in the classic myths, and also 
in the sonnets and other poems of the collection, con- 



siderable skill in phras6-making, and a fine seiise of 
the pictorial and the melodious. His best sonnets are 
touched with the regret of the classicist for the lcs5 
of the pagan world of 'gods and heroes. ' Once only 
does the poet echo the pseudo-classic manner of the 
eighteenth century when, speaking of the song birds 
he says 

"Alas, each day the cruel hunter sights 
His scientific tubes to slaughter all, — " 
Occasionally he shows a modern note, as in comparing 
the storm of hate in the contemporary war to winter 
blasts that precede the Spring, or in that other sonnet 
of fine resolve 

"And every action is a moment gained, 

An added motion to the moving reel 

That pictures life — as the dark ending nears." 

For the most part, however, the classic mood is 
given romantic expression in these verses, nowhere 
better seen than in the third sonnet that recalls a pass- 
age in Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale" — 

"Oh, for the tincture of an opiate-flower. 
With triple virtue and a dream profound 
In a wide solitude where not a sound 
May vex to motion a suspended hour:" 

Any lover of beauty will enjoy these poems inspir- 
ed by a gentle, refined and fastidious Muse. 

Fi'ajik W , Chandler 



From W. ^. Lighton, author of 

"AN ARKANSAS FARM" 

Contributor to the SATURDAY EVENING POST etc. 

FAYETTEVILLE, ARKANSAS 



My dear Mr. More: 

'*Gods and Heroes" has been for me a book of 
refreshment. I like it best for a certain quality which 
eludes definite naming — perhaps the word that comes 
nearest is, freedom. When a writer isn't quite sure 
of himself, when his ideas are but half-grown and his 
medium but half-mastered, he will stick very close to 
conventional forms in what he writes. The farther he 
ventures with independent thinking, the less will he 
regard the straight and narrow ways of expression. 

You have left the beaten trails in **Gods and 
Heroes." I like the limpid, flexible English; I li 
the fresh, clean-cut imagery; I like the effect as a 
whole — an effect which suggests craftsmanship so 
skillful as to be almost effortless. So much of the 
poetry given us nowadays is so roughly defaced by 
tool-marks, or, what is worse, by the self-conciousness 
of the writer. 

"Gods and Heroes" makes good reading, whether 
for the enjoyment of the unfettered sentences or for 
the deeper enjoyment of ideas well thought out. 

It is no doubt a thankless business to praise one 
part of the book above another; but you must let me 
say that the sonnets have given me especial enjoyment. 
Without exception, these are fine in mood and in 
execution. I congratulate you heartily upon this book. 
Faithfully yours, 

W. R. Lighton 



^ROM THE NATION** 

New York, May 4th., 1916 



"Gods and Heroes and Myths from Ovid" 

Comparison with the originals shows that the 
Ovidian narrative is followed closely, but all the 
peculiarly Ovidian features, such as artificiality and 
lascivious implication, are absent. Hence we have 
charming stories, but not Ovid. The introductory 
story of Orpheus and Eurydice is an original treatment, 
though an occasional reminiscence of Ovid can be dis- 
cerned, but it has a plaintive quality all its own. 



By Chiles Harris, Professor of 

ENGLISH LITERATURE 



In the Myths from Ovid I am struck with the 
simplicity with which the stories are recounted. 
Lucidity is one of the rarest of literary virtues, and 
that author who combines it with faithfulness of 
detail is indeed fortunate above his fellows. The 
blank verse is very fluent, the imagery vivid, and the 
thought somewhat Miltonic at times. 

For example: 

***** **\11 
The stars took flight, whilst Lucifer, the last 
To quit his vigil, gathered that great host 
And disappeared from his celestial watch." 



This is excellent. It appears that the author's de' 
sire was to reduce everything to a fundamental narra- 
tive basis. After a careful reading, I feel that the hand- 
ling of the stories will hold the interest of all readers, 
even those who may not have had a classical education. 
The choice of myths for treatment is chaste, and 
excellent. 

In regard to the sonnet sequence, I find them very 
effective, full of "faint auroral flushes," and haunt- 
ing. The first one vaguely reminds one of Swin- 
burn's pagan attitude, or Milton's echo of Apollo's 
voice "the seeps of Delphos leaving." The sequence 
deserves study. I feel that the philosophy expressed 
in these sonnets brings forth the gradual transforma- 
tion of the older and more visionary idea into the 
acceptance of the Christian attitude. 

The lover of pagan literature and the ideals which 
stood behind their legends, has often wondered, 
"In what dim antres of Forgetfulness 
Are lingering the Gods of long ago, ' ' 
and sometimes he is not quite satisfied that they 
should perish so. 

Chiles Harris 



FROM BOOK REVIEW DEPARTMENT 

Fort Smith Times-Record 



The author gives a series in poetry of the stories 
from Greek mythology. The subject matter is well 
chosen, and the poetry" good. 



There is always an attraction to us in the old 
legends of the Gods, and in these poems the chaste 
simplicity and adherence to strict narrative is evident. 
Twelve original sonnets regarding life and the here- 
after show true poetical inspiration. A Convent Legend 
is prettily told. 

We recommend "Gods and Heroes" to pros- 
pective readers as a book of verse, entertaining and of 
real literary value. 

Vera Brady SJiipnian 



FROM 
BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA 



There is always an attraction to us in the old 
legends of the gods. In fluent blank verse the au- 
thor regales us with the stories from Greek mythol- 
ogy, myths from Ovid, also sonnets and legends. 

Every literary man is well aware of the value of 
intelligent illustrations derived from classical 
sources, and this book opens a fountain of beautiful 
allusions and similes and illustrations suitable for 
the adornment of sermons, orations or literary works. 
Such a statement is readily agreed to when it is con- 
sidered that the following poets obtained most of 
their classical adornments from the myths as told by 
Ovid, viz: Milton, Keats, Shelly, Byron, Dante, Tasso. 



From G. B. Rose, attorney and author 

LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS 



The old legends of the gods and heroes of Greece 
have a perennial interest. We have ceased to believe 
them, but they charm us still. Every child should be 
brought up upon them. An acquaintance with them is 
an indispensible element in any system of culture; and 
we can never be too old to turn to them with delight. 
They can never be told too often. Every telling of 
them presents them in some new light. 

The last to engage in this alluring task is J. 
Brookes More of Fort Smith. Except the one dealing 
with the sad story of Orpheus and Eurydice, which is 
in the verse form of Gray's Elegy, the medium 
employed is blank verse. This he handles with great 
skill, and the musical flow of his periods carries the 
reader delightfully along. The volume also contains 
a number of Sonnets in the Italian style, and the poet 
shows a thorough mastery of that most intricate of 
verse forms. 



103 North Sixteenth St. 



Fort Smith, Ark. 
My Dear Mr. More, 

You have brought back to me the days of my 

boyhood, when I v/as a gr ay = jacketed cadet in the 

Bingham School in N. Caralina. Well do I remember 



when we read the Metamorphosis of Daphne. I think 
that something of the pathos touched me then; but I 
never so much felt it till I read your rendering. — 

In reading the Sonnets I feel as I have felt in 
reading the **Rubayat" or some of Sir Edwin Arnold's 
expositions of the great doctrines of the Hindoos. 
The book is exquisite. 

Sincerely yours 

M, Mc N. McKay 

My dear Mr. More,— 

I have read with pleasure, interest and profit 
your book of poems entitled "Gods and Heroes." 

I was especially struck v/ith the beautiful stories 
of mythology, which you have put into English verse 
with a faithful adherence to every detail of the original 
narratives, and in a form far more attractive and 
interesting than the prose version given in Bulfinch's 
"Mythology." The book has pleased me immensely. 

I have already called it to the favorable attention 
of many of my friends and I shall continue to do so- 

Yours truly, 

William A. Falconer 



FROM THE FORT SMITH 

"City Item" 



We have read the contents of "Gods and Heroes" 
with great interest. In a clear, gracefal style it gives 
the old mythological stories in beautiful verse. The. 
author has verily saturated himself with mythology. 

The work is being warmly commended and wel- 
corned as a very valuable addition to American 
literature. It should be in the home of every scholar 
in the city. 

A group of local men and women, who often 
contribute to periodicals, have been studying togeth- 
er tho Sonnsts in this book, and have compared them 
favorably whit the sonnets of Keats, Rosetti and 
Wordsworth. 

Fort Smith has many gifted men and women in 
her midst, but few of us knew that she claimed a 
poet of Mr. More's rank, tho he has always been 
known as a man of high classical attainment and 
extensive reading. 

His versatility is very marked in comparing the 
blank verse of his "Narcissus" with that of the 
beautiful "Convent Legend," or noting the weirdly 
strange beauty and elegant diction in "Al Araf to 
Alicon", a fine example of power in style, rhyme and 
rhythm. 

Ada A. Hite 



FROM THE 

Columbia Spectator 

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 

New York, N. Y. 



The sonnets in this volume are immediate proof 
of the matured artist and the skilled craftsman. Not 
one of them falls short of, and many of them outreach 
the high standard Mr. More has set in his other poems 
"Gods and Heroes" which deal with some phase, or 
rehearse some incident, familiar to most of us, of the 
Grecian Mythology. 

"Orpheus and Eurydice" has an eleusive charm that 
will elicit praise from students all over the country. 

Any one who reads "In What Dim Antres" will 
at once be conscious of the weight, the beauty, the en- 
durance of Mr. More's verses. 

B. Raymond^ Editor 



FROM ROGERS ADVOCATE 

E. M. Fowler, Editor 



"Gods and Heroes" is the title of a book of 
mythological poems by J. Brookes More of Fort Smith, 
recently published. Through the courtesy of a friend 
we have had the pleasure of placing in our library a 
copy of this excellent work. The book is not only in- 
tensely interesting and instructive, but has a strong 
tendency to create in the minds of all readers a thirst 
for a deeper knowledge of mythology, the foundation 
of much of our finest literature. 



Arkansas, in truth, has cause to be proud of a 
man of the almost boundless research, information and 
practical ability of the writer of "Gods and Heroes," 
and especially that a citizen of the state has given to 
the world this extraordinary gem of literature. 



CARNEGIE LIBRARY 



I have enjoyed "Gods and Heroes," by J. Brookes 
More, greatly. The mythological poems contained in 
this book have been given in prose, seldom in verse, 
but Mr. More has essayed this task with eminent success. 
He has brought the old stories freshly to mind inverse 
which is smooth and pleasing. The poems ought to at- 
tract young people, as well as mature and educated 
readers, not only because they are classic but because we 
have them now, in this book, as lovely as when Ovid 
wrote them. I shall call attention to the book frequently. 
Mary A. Osgood 

Librarian Carnegie City Library 
Fort Smith, Arkansas. 



I have never read a more musical or scholarly 
rendering of the Greek Myths, or one which better 
rendered their beauty and escaped their grossness. 

The Sonnets appeal to me, personally, as being of 
more than usual beauty, and will rank with the 
friends, among poems, whose company I seek often. 

Kate Sandels 



FORT SMITH PUBLIC SCHOOLS 



Fort Smith, Ark., 

Mr. J. Brookes More, 

City, 

Dear Sir: — 

I have read with appreciation your recent volume 
"Gods and Heroes." * * * * j ^j^ gj^j^ ^^ 

say with assurance that it is a splendid volume for the 
purpose for v*'hich it was evidently interd.d.i, e, the 
presentation of mythological narratives in poetic form. 
There are none I dare say of more merit. 

Yours very truly, 

C. J . Ti dive II 

(Assistant Superintendent Fort Smith Public Schools, 
and, recently. Professor of English Literature, Fort 
Smith High School.) 



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